


The Hidden Prince

by LadySlytherin



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Anal Sex, Exhibitionism, Infidelity, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Orgasm Delay, Severitus, Sevitus, Underage Drinking, Underage Sex, Underage Smoking, caught-in-the-act, only not because it's actually, porn - but with plot and angst and feelings and crap
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-21
Updated: 2015-09-17
Packaged: 2018-01-13 05:32:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 117,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1214545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadySlytherin/pseuds/LadySlytherin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry James Potter had spent every bit of his life - that he could remember, anyway - up until his eleventh birthday not knowing who he was. And he spent every moment after that trying to live up to the person everyone thought he was supposed to be.</p><p>But on his sixteenth birthday, a truth long-unknown will be revealed and Harry will have the chance to start his life in the Wizarding world over; a chance to start fresh and new, without the expectations that have weighed him down for so long. It is with this fresh start - complete with a new name, a new face, and both new and old friends - that Harry will finally figure out who he was always meant to be.</p><p>And maybe, just maybe, who he <i>really</i> is, was the key to defeating Voldemort all along.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Slytherin5298](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slytherin5298/gifts).



> I went through a phase a while back (over two years ago) where I was reading through a bunch of Sevitus/Severitus fics over on the now-gone TSS archive (and a couple on a site called Potions and Snitches), and I found myself sorely disappointed. At worst, Lily was a whore, or a bitch, or just a manipulative liar. At best, there was simply no logical, plausible reasoning for her to cheat on James. It was frustrating, to say the very least.
> 
> I also had issues with how Harry went from being Harry and hating Draco, to being Severus' son and sleeping with Draco almost-instantly in almost every one of those fics. It seemed...disingenuous to me. Rushed.
> 
> And so, the idea for "The Hidden Prince" was born. I wanted to fix all of the things I had disliked about the stories I had read; this is my attempt at doing that.
> 
> Now, normally I write...long-ish fics. My one-shots often top-out between 10K and 30K words. My multi-chapter fics are anywhere from 30K to 80K. This fic...is especially long. _Epically_ long, in fact. I am not exaggerating. I have already passed the 100K mark in writing, and well-passed it fact, and am only 10 chapters plus the prologue in. I expect between 20 and 30 chapters to this, in total. Other than the prologue, my shortest chapter so far is still over 5K. So brace yourself for the wordiness of this fic. Believe me, it's worth it.
> 
> A HUGE thank-you to my alpha/beta team - Brit, Lindy, Lori, and Danae. You ladies cheer me on, give me ideas (even if they're often outrageous and ignored; I love them all anyway), harass me to make words, and love my writing to a level most writers only dream about. I would never have gotten this far in the story without your prodding, and I'm trusting you ladies to take me all the way to the end. So much love, girls. SO MUCH LOVE! <3
> 
> Kudos make me smile; comments make my day. Feel free to leave me some, if you feel they're earned. For comments...ask questions, throw out theories, offer ideas - I love them all! And I love to reply. Happy reading. ~ LS

Lily Evans was staring at the ceiling above her bed – hers and James' bed – feeling horribly guilty. It was the morning of her wedding – October 31st, 1979 – and she'd done something incredibly stupid and foolish. She glanced over at the relaxed, sleeping face of her oldest friend. Then she slipped from the bed with a sigh, tugged on a dressing gown, and quietly went downstairs to make some tea. Tea had always helped her to think more clearly.

 

James had spent the night with Sirius, since he wasn't supposed to see her for twenty-four hours before the wedding. Lily had been jittery and nervous, but excited, the night before. Then Severus had shown up. She had almost turned him away, but they had been friends since they were seven years old; nearly two-thirds of her life. And now...now she had done something she felt awful about and she would need to deal with the consequences.

 

"Good morning." Purred a silky voice from behind her and Lily's breath trembled as she gripped the edge of the counter with white-knuckled fingers. "Did you sleep well?"

 

Lily turned, locking green eyes to black, and said solemnly. "Well enough, considering." She flicked her eyes to the clock for a moment, then brought them back to Severus's face and said softly. "You need to leave now."

 

Severus took a stunned step back. Lily's face was blank; her eyes were full of regret and dread and other horrible things. Her voice had been low and serious. "What do you mean?" He asked in a whisper, feeling his heart ache in his chest. "After everything...after _last night_...Lily, you can't still mean to marry him!"

 

"I can, and I will." Lily said, her voice firm as she crossed her arms in front of her chest. "I love James, Severus. Nothing has changed about that. Just as I warned you it wouldn't."

 

She saw the pain in his eyes and her face softened a little, as did her voice. "Severus, please don't make this harder than it needs to be. You know you'll always be dear to me..."

 

"I'll tell him." Severus rasped, eyes wild and angry as fury crept into his voice. "I swear, I'll go over to Black's place and tell him everything. I'll show him my memories of last night. I'll make sure he believes."

 

Lily swallowed hard, but she had once known Severus as well as she knew herself. She had anticipated this reaction. "I suppose you can, if you wish to seem like a child throwing a tantrum, Severus. I certainly can't stop you." She made sure to keep her voice level as she added. "But I intend to tell him myself, before the wedding today. It won't change anything, though. James loves me just as I love him and though he won't be happy, for obvious reasons, he will still love me and he will still marry me."

 

She met Severus's black eyes levelly and added. "What James feels for me is not the needy, clingy, selfish love of a child. Nor is it the desperate, obsessive love of an adolescent. We share the deep and abiding love of adults." She watched as his face went blank and knew he was struggling to gain control of himself, so she added gently. "I _will_ become Lily Potter today, Severus. I'm sorry."

 

Severus stared at her blankly for a moment then gave a curt nod, turned on his heel, and walked out. She winced at the slam of the front door, then lowered herself carefully down to the kitchen floor when she feared her trembling legs would no longer hold her. The hardest part, she knew, was yet to come.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Lily spun, her whole body coiled tight, when the front door flew open. James stood in the doorway, his eyes wild. "What's wrong?" He demanded, his voice frantic. "Why did you need to see me, Lils? What is it?"

 

And Lily wished, more than anything, to throw herself into his arms and cry on his chest and beg his forgiveness. And she knew she couldn't. Instead, she pulled the collar of her dressing gown higher around her throat and gestured to the sofa with one hand. “Please sit down, James.” Her voice was the barest whisper of sound. “I need to tell you something.”

 

Once James was seated, she sat gingerly on their coffee table so she was directly in front of him. “I love you, James.” She began, then held up her hand for silence when it looked as though James would speak. “I need you to know that before I explain anything else. I love you.”

 

When he nodded, his hazel eyes showing his confusion, she continued. “Severus came to see me last night and…” She cast her eyes to the floor, unable to look at James while she spoke though she felt cowardly for it. “He asked me things. Things that I didn’t have a ready answer for.”

 

“Like what?” James asked and she could hear confusion in his voice, but no anger. She guessed he didn’t understand where this was going yet.

 

“He asked me how I could be certain I loved you more than I loved him when I had only known your touch and not his.” She risked a quick glance up and saw the icy look sliding over James’s face. She hurried to continue her tale. “He asked how I could know for sure, when I had refused to give him the chance I’d given you. He…” She closed her eyes and whispered. “He asked if I would regret never knowing for sure…”

 

When she opened her eyes, she could see the cold fury on her fiancé’s face. It crept into his voice as he met her eyes and asked. “What did you tell him, Lily?”

 

Lily flinched back from his anger, though she knew she’d earned it. Then she gathered her courage, met his eyes, and said. “I spent the night with him.” Her voice was firm and unapologetic, though her eyes showed her sorrow. “I regret that I did something so foolish, but at the same time I don’t because it proved to me the truth I’ve always known. That my heart is yours in a way it was never his. And while he will always hold a place in my heart, for having been my very first friend, it doesn’t compare to the fact that the rest of my heart is yours.”

 

James took a shaky breath and ran a hand through his perpetually messy hair. “You…” He seemed to choke on his words for a moment, then asked in a hoarse voice. “You and Snape had…” And still, it seemed he couldn’t bring himself to speak the word.

 

“Yes.” Lily whispered, looking anguished. “I couldn’t…I needed to tell you. _Before_ the wedding. I needed to know that you knew what I had done or I couldn’t marry you. James…” She reached out but stopped short of touching him, as though afraid he might lash out at her if she dared. “I love you and I still want to marry you today. For me, this changes nothing. But I had to know if it would change things for you. If you could still want me...still _love_ me, after what I’ve done.”

 

And James’s face cleared and his eyes softened. “Oh, Lily…” He sighed, reaching out and gathering her into his arms so she was snuggled on his lap, against his chest. “Of course I still love you. Nothing could make me stop loving you.” He pressed a kiss to her red curls and chuckled. “You’re silly to worry I wouldn’t want to marry you. I do. I intend to.” He drew her back enough to meet those vibrant green eyes and said. “I forgive you, Lily.”

 

“And you won’t blame Severus?” Lily asked softly, her eyes pleading. “Please…don’t blame him. It was my choice. I’ve hurt him enough…”

 

James gritted his teeth for a moment, but then sighed and nodded. “Alright. I won’t seek vengeance on Snape.” He caught Lily’s skeptical look and added. “I promise, Lils. I won’t tell anyone, either, so _no one_ will be seeking vengeance on him. All right?”

 

When Lily nodded, he kissed her head once more and said. “I left Padfoot sleeping, but Moony will be over soon so I’ve got to get back before they realize I’ve gone.” He set her onto the sofa and stood, giving her a charming grin. “I’ll be waiting for you.”

 

And Lily smiled softly back, her whole face radiating joy and relief. “I’ll be there.” She promised. “I can’t wait.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Lily stared down at the baby boy the Mediwitch had placed in her arms. He was beautiful; too beautiful for words. He had her almond-shaped eyes that were already a vibrant green and her pert little button nose and her cherry-red lips. But the rest…Lily’s heart was breaking. His hair was so dark a black that it glistened with a blue and green and purple sheen; like oil or a raven’s wing. His skin was as fair as ivory, with a hint of rosy color in his cheeks. His cheekbones were high and sharp; his chin was somehow sharp but delicate. He stared up at her, with eyes too alert for a newborn, and she studied the face that was made up of herself and Severus Snape.

 

Then she drew her wand and pointed it at the baby. She had to be quick; it would take only a single look for James to determine that the baby wasn’t his. And while she knew James would love the child anyway she couldn’t bear to see the pain it would bring to know that her firstborn child had been sired by another man. So Lily cast the Changeling Charm. She’d been afraid the child could be Severus’, so she had looked up the charm just in case. And now she watched as a shimmering blue light bathed the baby and slowly he changed. His hair changed from glossy black to a much duller color; like James’ hair. His skin darkened to a subtle peach tone several shades darker than it had been and his cheekbones and chin rounded, giving the child a softer look.

 

Every trace of Severus was replaced with James and Lily sighed in relief when it was done. She could breathe easier now. Just as she was setting her wand back on the nightstand the door slowly opened and James peeked in. “All right, love?” He asked, grinning.

 

“Perfect.” She said, smiling back. She looked down at the baby and then back up at her husband and added. “Would you like to see your son, James?”

 

“Mine?” He whispered and Lily knew instantly that James, too, had feared that the baby would not be his blood. He approached the bed cautiously, his eyes locked on Lily’s face as though afraid to look at the baby and see proof that it wasn’t his son.

 

Lily smiled softly, knowing she had done the right thing. “Yes, James. Your son.” She watched as James looked at the baby and added. “He looks remarkably like you, James. He’s adorable.”

 

And James scooped the baby boy out of her arms, holding him as though he were the most precious thing in all the world. “Hello, little Harry.” James cooed, rocking the child slightly. “Aren’t you just the most beautiful baby ever?”

 

Lily’s heart twisted in her chest; the baby _had_ been the most beautiful child she’d ever seen. He was still precious and adorable…but she knew his true face was lovelier still. “Harry?” She asked softly.

 

“I like the name Harry.” James said, grinning at her and still rocking the baby. “Don’t you? It’s nice and simple. Harry Potter.”

 

Lily knew Severus would be furious at such a common name being given to his child. She met James’ laughing hazel eyes and – for a single instant – wavered in her resolve to keep her son’s parentage a secret from everyone. Then she watched the tender, loving way James held her son and rocked him and spoke to him…and she knew that this child would be more loved than any other. No, she would hold her tongue and keep this secret. It was best for everyone.

 

“Harry.” She whispered. “Harry James Potter.” She smiled softly when James beamed at her. “Yes, it’s a lovely name. I couldn’t agree more.”

 

Just then a Mediwitch came in, holding a scroll and a slender silver rod. She smiled at them. “I was wondering if you’re ready to name the child and list parentage.” She chimed, holding up the scroll.

 

“We’ve just picked his name, actually.” James told the woman with a charming smile that made the middle-aged woman blush. “He’s Harry James Potter.”

 

The woman cast a spell at the scroll and it unrolled. “Harry James Potter.” She spoke and the name scrawled itself across the parchment.

 

The Mediwitch then walked over to baby Harry with the silver rod and touched it to his arm. A single drop of blood clung to the rod when she moved it away from Harry’s skin, but there was no cut and Harry hadn’t cried. She touched the drop of blood to the parchment beside Harry’s name and it glowed gold for a few moments. Then she turned to Lily and asked. “Parents’ names?”

 

“Lily Evans Potter.” Lily said, holding out her hand for the Mediwitch to take a drop of blood with her silver rod. When it hit the parchment, it rippled over it in a wave of blue and then her name appeared on the line labeled, _‘Mother’_.

 

“James Charlus Potter.” James said, still rocking Harry gently. The Mediwitch carefully got blood from his arm and transferred it to the parchment. Magic rippled red across the parchment and Lily held her breath until her husband’s name scrawled across the parchment on the line marked _‘Father’_ in confirmation of Harry’s parentage.

 

She was so relieved; the Changeling Charm had held up to the blood magic test, which meant she’d cast it correctly. The Mediwitch cast the spell to send the scroll to the Ministry to be filed and then left, while James handed baby Harry over to be fed. Lily smiled up at him while settling Harry against her breast and said. “Why don’t you go tell Remy and Siri that he’s healthy and well and what his name is? Then in about ten or fifteen minutes you can bring them in to see him.”

 

James left after pressing a light kiss to her forehead and Lily looked down at her son as he fed. She knew the Changeling Charm wouldn’t hold forever. Someday, on one of his birthdays between his fourteenth and his seventeenth, the Charm would fail. But that was all right. She would just make sure she woke Harry up on each of his birthdays so she could recast the Charm when it failed. Then it would be permanent and she would never have to worry about someone finding out the truth. No one would ever know that Harry was not James Potter’s son. Everything would be just fine. Perfect, even. She smiled down at Harry as he suckled and thought, _‘Yes, perfect. Just like my son.’_


	2. Chapter One

A lot could change in a very short amount of time. This was a fact that Harry James Potter, age barely-sixteen, was very-much aware of. A split-second remembering of the method of contact Sirius had sent him had allowed him to find out that Siri was safe and sound and _not_ at the Ministry being tortured. That had allowed the Order to meet the Death Eaters head-on. It had been a resounding victory for the Order, since the Death Eaters had not been expecting to run into anyone except Harry, and possibly a few of his school-age friends. Fudge had been forced to acknowledge the return of Voldemort when he and the Aurors had arrived to see Dumbledore dueling with the snake-faced bastard.

 

Among the captured Death Eaters was Peter Pettigrew, so Sirius had been freed as well. Which meant that Harry had spent a miserable two weeks with the Dursleys that summer and not a second more. His godfather had refused to be parted from him for longer than that. And now it was the morning of his sixteenth birthday and Sirius was all prepared with Harry’s birth certificate (retrieved a few days earlier from the Ministry) to take formal custody. They were going to the Ministry first thing, as soon as Harry woke up, to make everything legal and official. And then Harry would never have to spend another second at the Dursleys’ house. He could spend Christmas with Sirius as well. They would be a family.

 

All because of a single remembrance. All because Harry had thought of the gift Sirius had sent to him many months before. All because of a split-second decision. In the course of a single evening, Harry’s whole life had changed. Yes, Harry Potter was well aware of the fact that a great deal of very important things could happen in a remarkably short period of time.

 

He was about to have that knowledge reaffirmed…in a most _un_ pleasant manner.

 

Harry felt the blankets being dragged off him and groaned, burying his face in his pillow. He didn’t know what time it was, but he was sure it was far too early to be woken up. Then he remembered that it was his birthday and today he would officially belong to Sirius. He grinned, rolled over, and sat up. He beamed at his godfather as he stretched with a yawn.

 

“G’morning, Siri!” He said in a low voice. He frowned, then decided he should have a cup of tea to soothe his throat before they left; his voice didn’t sound correct at all. He certainly didn’t want to lose his voice on his birthday of all days.

 

Harry realized two things simultaneously. One – he could see perfectly well, despite the fact that he hadn’t yet put on his glasses. Two – Sirius was pointing his wand directly at his chest. “Siri?” Harry asked, standing slowly. “What’s wrong?”

 

“Who are you?” Sirius demanded in a low growl. “Where’s Harry? What’ve you done with him? If you’ve hurt him in any way, I swear…”

 

“What are you _talking_ about?” Harry demanded, crossing his arms and glaring. “You know perfectly well that _I’m_ Harry!” Suddenly Harry’s face cleared and he laughed, dimly realizing that it sounded lower and silkier than normal. “Oh, that’s funny, Siri! Good one! You had me going for a second.”

 

Sirius still had his wand trained on the boy in front of him, but now he hesitated. His face went from angry to uncertain. Though the strange boy’s laugh had sounded wrong, there was something familiar about the cadence of it. And he was wearing the red and gold pajamas he and Harry and picked out a few days before, though they didn’t fit right. “If you’re Harry, prove it.” Sirius demanded. “Who am I dating and when did I tell you?” Harry had only found out the day before, so he wouldn’t have had time to tell his friends or anyone else. And almost no one knew. If this boy knew…he must be Harry.

 

“You’re dating Remy.” The stranger said, then rolled his eyes and added dryly. “Though _dating_ is a bit of a stretch as apparently all you two do is stay in and shag.” Sirius’s eyes widened and the stranger who had to be Harry added. “And the second part is a trick question. You didn’t tell me; I walked in and saw…well, I saw far more of both of you than I ever wanted to and let’s just leave it at that.”

 

“Harry?” Sirius whispered, his eyes wide as he finally lowered his wand. “What the fuck happened to you?” When Harry looked confused, Sirius said. “Go look in the mirror. You look…different.”

 

Harry frowned. “Different how? You just saw me last night. How much can I have changed? Although,” He walked over to his wardrobe and pulled it open to reveal a full-length mirror, adding over his shoulder. “I don’t seem to need my glasses anymore, which is odd.”

 

Harry turned to look in the mirror and nearly fainted. He was staring at a perfect stranger. He searched the face in the mirror for anything familiar. His eyes…they were still wide, almond-shaped, framed with thick dark lashes, and vibrantly green. His nose, he noticed, was the same as well…a pert, almost-feminine button nose that had earned him some good-natured ribbing from his dorm-mates. And his lips were the same full, cherry-red as usual. When he made himself smile, they curved upwards in the same precise way that they always had, though the rest of his face responded differently.

 

His skin was as white as snow; he figured he might be paler than Draco Malfoy now, who was surely the palest person he’d ever seen. His hair was no longer the messy, tousled nest he’d had his entire life. It fell neat and straight around his face, the length just past his ears. It was still black, but it now held a sheen to it that was purple and green and blue; it looked like a raven’s wing. Harry had never seen hair like it in his entire life. His cheekbones were high and sharp under his eyes and his chin was narrower and more delicate than it had been. The two together served to make his face more slender and – combined with his eyes, nose, and mouth – gave his entire face a decidedly feminine-cast.

 

His pajamas were too-short in the arms and legs. It was as though he’d grown several inches while he was sleeping. Though he figured he was still shorter than Ron, he was now much closer to the proper height for his age. Harry figured he was now around 5’7” or 5’8” rather than the 5’4” he’d been when he’d gone to bed the night before. In direct contrast to his added height, his shoulders and hips seemed to have slimmed down. His pajama shirt (which had fit perfectly the night before) now sat strangely on his shoulders and his bottoms were barely clinging to his hips. He thought if he jumped up and down they might actually slip right off. Harry tipped his head to the left and watched as the reflection did the same. He opened his mouth, then closed it, then stuck out his tongue…and, for each one, the stranger staring back at him did the same.

 

He was still staring at the mirror when the door to his bedroom opened and Remus came in. “Is Harry awake yet, Padfoot?” He saw Harry then and sucked in a sharp breath. “Who is that?”

 

“That’s Harry, Moony.” Sirius explained, looking vaguely dazed. “We’re not quite sure what happened…but it’s definitely him.”

 

Harry didn’t turn around as Remus began casting spells at him. Nothing seemed to happen for a very long time and then, suddenly, Harry glowed a bright, rich purple for a moment and then red very faintly and then a pulsing blue before it faded. Remus frowned and apparently recast the same spell, for the same thing happened again.

 

Harry turned at last and raised an eyebrow. “Well?” He asked when no one spoke. “What were all the glowing colors about?”

 

Remus frowned, studying Harry’s face. “I was checking everything I could think of. That was a reading of the magic surrounding you. The purple is yours. The red and the blue are residual magic. Things that were surrounding you but aren’t anymore. Like a spell that’s faded or been removed.”

 

“So you’re saying that Harry hasn’t been altered? That he was altered _before_ and now it’s just worn off?” Sirius was looking at Remus like he was crazy. “That doesn’t make sense!”

 

“I’ve always looked like I did before.” Harry told Remus. “Even in the baby pictures of me, I look like my dad. Everyone’s always said so.”

 

Remus was still studying Harry’s face carefully. “You still have Lily’s eyes.” Remus pointed out. “It’s interesting that that didn’t change.”

 

“My nose and mouth are the same too.” Harry felt compelled to say. “I haven’t changed _completely_. Just enough that it makes the overall effect different.”

 

Remus took a step closer to Harry, his eyes intent. “Your nose and mouth are Lily’s as well.” Remus said slowly. “And your scar is gone…” Harry nodded; he’d noticed that as well, though it seemed to pale in comparison to the other changes. Suddenly Remus turned to Sirius. “Where’s Harry’s birth certificate? I want to see something.”

 

“See what?” Sirius asked, looking confused but holding out the scroll he was holding. “I don’t understand how Harry could go from looking like his father to not looking like his father overnight…”

 

“I don’t think he did.” Remus replied softly, taking the scroll. “In fact, I think the opposite is true and that’s what I want to check.”

 

Harry turned back to the mirror with a frown. “I don’t understand.” Harry admitted, raising one hand and pressing his fingertips to those of the stranger in the mirror. “I told you; I’ve always looked like my father, even when I was a baby.”

 

“I know.” Remus softly answered. “And I think someone tried very hard to hide that fact.”

 

Sirius gasped, staring at Remus in horror. “No!” He protested. “I’ve seen Harry’s birth certificate. We looked at it the day I brought it home! James is clearly listed as Harry’s father. He passed the blood parentage test. It’s _on file_ , Remus.”

 

“And there are spells that would allow that to happen.” Remus’ voice was soft. “The Adoption Spell does that. So does the Surrogacy Spell.” Remus flicked his eyes at Harry, then looked back at Sirius and added in a low murmur. “The Changeling Charm.”

 

Sirius sucked in another breath, then let it out in a hiss. Harry watched as Sirius looked away from Remus, staring at the far wall. Harry laid his palm flat against the silvered glass before him, studying his new face. “So you’re saying I’m not really James Potter’s son.” His voice was flat. “You’re saying my mother cheated and then my paternity was hidden using a spell and it’s now worn off?” Harry watched in the glass as Remus nodded behind him and asked. “How will looking at my birth certificate prove anything, though? James is already listed as my father.”

 

“Yes, through blood-magic.” Remus explained. “If it’s the Changeling Charm, which really makes the most sense, and it’s worn off…then the certificate will have changed.”

 

“It will list my true father?”

 

“No.” Remus shook his head. “For the magic to accept someone as your father, their blood has to touch the parchment.”

 

Harry nodded slowly and Remus touched his wand to the scroll. It unrolled and hovered in the air and Remus read aloud. “Male child, born 31st July, 1980. Harry James…” He paused, swallowing hard, then said in a whisper. “Harry James _Evans_. Mother: Lily Evans Potter. Father: Unknown.”

 

Harry reached up and touched his own cheek with the hand not touching the mirror. He felt the dampness of tears and watched the stranger in the glass do the same; the pain reflected back at him from familiar green eyes was twisting a face he didn’t know into something anguished and heartbroken. “Unknown.” He whispered, his fingers lingering on the tears clinging to his skin. “Now what?”

 

He watched as Remus turned suspicious eyes on Sirius, who still wasn’t looking at either of them. “Is it you, then?” He demanded.

 

Sirius snapped his head around, glaring at Remus. “Me?” He demanded with a snarl. “You’re joking! How do I know it wasn’t _you_?”

 

“I’ve not got black hair!” Remus yelled, gesturing to Harry frantically. “You’re the one that does! And those delicate aristocratic features run in _your_ family, not mine!”

 

“Half of your family is as pureblooded as mine!” Sirius hollered back, his face growing red. “And my hair doesn’t look like _that!_ It could be a trait from somewhere back in your family for all I know.”

 

“Stop it.” Harry whispered, not moving his eyes from where they were locked on his own in the glass. “It’s bad enough you two thought each other the traitor all those years ago. Don’t go thinking the worst of each other now.” He paused a moment and the air was heavy with tension still so he added. “Just test it with your blood, then. Prove it was neither of you. Then let it go.” Harry didn’t know why he was so calm; he felt numb inside, despite the pain showing on his face and the tears. He thought, perhaps, that he might be in shock.

 

Remus drew his wand across his finger and blood welled at the tip. He pressed it to the parchment and magic shimmered gold across it for a moment. The line above the word father remained _Unknown_ and Remus turned to glare at Sirius. Sirius drew a small pocketknife from his robes and nicked one of his fingers, pressing it to the parchment as well. Magic moved in a wave of green over the scroll before fading and again the line above ‘Father’ remained unchanged.

 

“Told you.” Sirius muttered angrily. Then he sighed and added. “Sorry.”

 

Remus blushed and nodded. “Me, too. Sorry.”

 

Harry finally turned from the mirror to face them both. “What does it mean, now that my last name is Evans?”

 

The men exchanged a look, then Sirius said. “It means you can’t claim the seat meant for ‘ _Lord Potter’_ on the Wizengamot. The property in Godric’s Hollow and your vault from your…from your mum and James…well, they’re still yours. That’s stuff in the will. If there were other Potters alive, they could contest some of the Potter heirlooms in the vault, but there aren’t so it doesn’t much matter.” Sirius shrugged uncomfortably. “Basically the only real change is that when you turn seventeen you won’t be ‘ _Lord Potter’_ like you would have been. You can’t claim the seat without a blood tie to the House of Potter.”

 

Harry swallowed hard. “So…how do I find out who my father _is_? There must be a way…”

 

Remus spoke next. “I don’t know, Harry. We can, of course, make this all public. In which case we’d have to hope that whoever your father is, he steps forward.” Remus sighed when Harry shook his head. “I don’t know what else to suggest. I can’t think of anyone Lily was close enough to…”

 

Sirius shook his head at Remus’s questioning look. “I can’t either. She never had many close friends, even back in school. And she was so in love with James…”

 

“Would Dumbledore know?” Harry asked, feeling suddenly desperate. “I mean, Mum was in the Order, right? Maybe it was another Order member? Like, maybe she was working on something with someone or maybe she confided in him about who it was?”

 

Sirius nodded. “I suppose there’s nothing to do but ask him. I’ll go Floo him now.”

 

Sirius left the room and Remus crossed to Harry, hugging him. “You’re still you, Harry.” Remus told him softly, seeming to understand what Harry was feeling without him saying anything about it. “No matter what anyone else says or thinks, you’re still you.” Harry nodded against Remus’s shoulder and hugged him back, trembling faintly.

 

“Can’t I just go back?” Harry whispered at last; his voice was weak and pathetic-sounding and laced with tears. “To how I looked before, I mean…”

 

Remus pulled back to look Harry in the eye, his face solemn. “No, Harry. The only way to make the Changeling Charm permanent is for the person who cast it the first time to recast it within twenty-four hours of it failing. Since both Lily and James are dead, and I can’t imagine who else could have cast it but one of them…” Remus sighed at how disappointed Harry looked. “It would be wrong anyway, Harry. This is who you are; who you were always meant to be. Hiding it away or pretending it’s not true doesn’t change it. Just like accepting it doesn’t change _you_.”

 

Harry sniffled and dragged his sleeve across his face. “I guess.” He whispered. “It’s just…I’ve always been Harry _Potter_. And now I don’t know who I’m supposed to be anymore.” He gave Remus a heartbroken look. “How am I supposed to tell everyone? How am I supposed to explain a lie I don’t understand to all my friends?” Harry suddenly looked stricken. “How am I supposed to face the school?”

 

Remus hugged Harry tightly again. “We’ll figure it out, Harry. We’ll help you. For right now, you just get dressed. We’ll worry about it more when Albus gets here. I’ll go and cancel your party, alright?”

 

Harry nodded and Remus left the room. As Harry dragged on jeans and a blue tee-shirt that didn’t fit right anymore, he pondered what Remus had said. He supposed it was true; inside, he was the same person he’d always been. The trouble, of course, was that he wasn’t sure who that was. He’d always tried very hard – ever since first entering the Wizarding World – to live up to both his name and his parents’ names. He’d done his best to be the perfect Gryffindor and the hero and the brave, brash, confident one – though he knew he didn’t manage it in the same effortless way James Potter had. He’d struggled to suppress anything in him that didn’t fit with the image people had of him, because he’d wanted to do the memory of his parents proud. And now…now, he didn’t know what to try to be because he didn’t know who is father really was.

 

 _‘Maybe…’_ Harry thought as he left his room wishing he knew how to fix his clothes so they fit. _‘Maybe, for once…I can just be_ me _.’_

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Harry smiled and rushed into Albus’ open arms as soon as he entered the drawing room to see the man standing there, talking to Sirius and Remus. “Thanks for coming.” Harry said in his now low and breathy voice. “I really appreciate it.”

 

“Of course, Harry.” Albus replied, smiling down at the boy when he stepped back from the embrace. “I was just explaining to your godfather and Remus that while I don’t know who could have possibly been your father, I do know of someone who might. He’ll be along in a few minutes.” The Headmaster studied Harry and then cast a quick spell, resizing Harry’s clothes. “Much better.” He said, his blue eyes twinkling brightly. “You look very attractive, Harry.”

 

Harry blushed; he could feel the heat in his cheeks. “Thanks.” He said softly. “It’ll take some getting used to, that’s for sure.” He admitted with a sheepish smile. “I don’t really know what to do about all of this. I mean, I’ve looked the same way my whole life and suddenly everything is upside down and I look different and my dad isn’t my dad and I don’t know who _is_ my dad and my clothes don’t fit and…”

 

And quite suddenly, as though the whole morning was crashing down on him at once, Harry burst into tears. Albus hugged him and soothed him until the tears stopped and then said gently. “It’s a lot to take in, Harry. Now, go and wash your face and take a few moments to compose yourself.” He smiled and touched Harry’s shoulder lightly. “You’re holding up very well, considering, Harry. You’re remarkably strong and you’ll get through this. You’ll see.”

 

When Harry came back to the room a few minutes later, he paused outside the door for a moment, listening to the adults inside. “I can’t believe you actually thought _he_ would be able to help.” Sirius was saying, anger clear in his voice.

 

“Now, Sirius.” Albus admonished. “You know as well as I do that there was no one – except perhaps James – who knew Lily better. If anyone would have known, it would be him.” Then, apparently to someone other than Sirius, he added. “Perhaps if you saw Harry…”

 

“Of course I will look at him.” And Harry frowned because he knew that voice and he had never known that Snape was friends with his mother. “But I maintain that Lily would never have cheated on James Potter. She loved him to the exclusion of everyone else.” There was a bitterness in Snape’s velvety voice as he said this. “The wisest course of action is to reveal this development to the public and hope someone comes forward to claim the boy.”

 

“I don’t want to make a public announcement yet.” Harry said quietly, stepping into the room. He met Snape’s piercing black eyes unflinchingly, raising his chin in defiance. “If that means that I don’t know who my father is, then fine. I don’t want this splashed all over the papers.”

 

Severus felt as though someone had kicked him in the stomach. He couldn’t breathe. His eyes were wide and restlessly tracing Harry’s face. Sirius was looking at Severus in confusion while Albus was smiling slightly, his eyes twinkling again. It was Remus who finally spoke up. “Severus, do you have an idea of who his father might be?” Severus nodded very slowly, still staring at Harry. “Who?”

 

Severus walked closer, not saying anything, and reached out to tip Harry’s face further up towards his. He studied every line of the boy’s features and Harry let him, looking wary. Finally, Severus touched his fingers lightly to Harry’s hair, looking slightly awed. “Your hair…” He breathed.

 

Harry licked his lips, swallowing hard. “You know someone with hair like mine?” He whispered and Snape nodded. “Are they still alive?” Another nod. “Who?” Harry begged. “Please…please, tell me who.” Harry grabbed Snape’s hand and clung to it. “What’s my father’s name?”

 

Severus closed his eyes, looking both anguished and joyful at the same time. “She never told me…” He whispered, opening his eyes and turning to Albus. The plea on his face was clear to see. “I swear, Albus, I didn’t know. I’d never have…I…you _must_ know I…I would have…”

 

Albus nodded, looking sympathetic. “I know, my boy. I know.”

 

And before anyone could do more than blink in confusion, Severus Snape gathered Harry into his arms and held him as though he thought the boy would disappear if he eased his grip in the slightest. “I swear I did not know.” He told Harry fervently. “I would never have left you with those Muggles. Never. Even while the Changeling Charm was still in place. You must believe me.”

 

Harry was staring up at Severus in stunned disbelief. Sirius, however, was shaking with fury. “You lying bastard.” He spat, furious. “There’s no way Lily ever slept with you. You’re full of shit.”

 

Severus finally released Harry and turned on Sirius with a snarl. “I would not lie about this, Black! That boy is mine. My features are clearly stamped across his face; anyone with eyes not blinded by hatred can see that!”

 

Harry raised a trembling hand to his cheek, staring at his Professor’s face as he did so. Snape’s cheekbones _were_ high and sharp…his chin was narrow…his skin was pale, if sallow…he was certainly taller than James Potter had been, which explained Harry’s added height, and he was of a more-slender build as well. Could it be true? Could his father be Severus Snape? And did Snape mean what he’d said, about wanting Harry? Harry’s head was spinning.

 

“He looks _nothing_ like you!” Sirius raved and Harry knew that wasn’t actually true, but he said nothing for the moment. “I don’t know what you hope to accomplish with this lie, but it’s ridiculous! Harry is beautiful; look at him! You’re an ugly git…Lily would _never_ have touched someone like you!”

 

Severus sneered, though he flicked a brief glance at Harry during which his glacial eyes seemed to warm slightly. “You’re right, Black. My son _is_ beautiful. It seems that Lily and I managed to produce a truly exquisite child.” When Sirius sputtered with indignation, he added. “His hair, Black. You, of all people, should recognize it as strictly a Prince trait. Only Princes have hair like that.”

 

“Yours isn’t!” Sirius screamed, pointing at Snape’s greasy hair.

 

Severus rolled his eyes. “If I washed the potion I use out of my hair, I assure you that it would be. And even if I didn’t have the trait myself, it is still a Prince trait and I am the only Prince left alive.” He flicked his eyes to Harry again and added softly. “One of only two Princes alive, I mean.”

 

Sirius appeared to be ready to foam at the mouth and Harry cleared his throat, drawing the attention of everyone in the room. “What do you mean, a prince?” He asked.

 

 

It was Albus who answered. “The Princes were a very old Pureblood family, Harry. Severus was the last of the line, though his mother – Eileen Prince – broke tradition by marrying a Muggle man and was promptly disowned. Still, Severus is correct in saying that no one outside the Prince family has ever had hair of that…particular shade. It was a characteristic of the family, as was the fact that they all shared the same Animagi form.”

 

Harry blinked, then guessed. “A raven?” When Albus nodded, Harry bit his lip. “So…so am I Prince then, or am I a…” He stopped and swallowed hard and forced out the words. “A Snape?”

 

Severus answered softly. “You are a Snape by name, of course, for that is my name. But by blood you are a Prince and you have every right to claim that heritage, just as my godson claims the heritage of the House of Black.”

 

Harry blinked slowly again; he felt like the world was spinning too fast and he couldn’t keep up. “Malfoy is your godson?” When Severus looked startled, Harry murmured. “Black family tapestry.”

 

Remus cleared his throat. “Before this discussion about family histories spirals any further out of control, or Sirius snaps, perhaps we should prove this theory?” He held up a scroll. When no one protested, he tapped it with his wand and it unrolled.

 

Harry swallowed hard as Severus approached it swiftly. He drew his wand, then stopped and slid it back into his wrist holster. He then held out his hand to Remus. “If you would, Lupin? Black will be more inclined to believe the results if _my_ wand doesn’t draw the blood.”

 

Remus nodded and used his wand to make a small, shallow cut on Snape’s finger. Harry watched, holding his breath, and Severus pressed his bloody fingertip to the parchment. Dark, eggplant-purple magic rippled across the parchment like water. The name _‘Evans_ ’ faded from the end of Harry’s name and the name _‘Snape_ ’ scrawled in its place almost immediately. The word _‘Unknown’_ vanished from the line labeled Father and across it wrote the name _‘Severus Tobias Snape_ ’. Sirius let out a strange, awful howling sound, suddenly looking as insane as someone who had spent twelve years in Azkaban would be expected to look. Severus was smirking smugly, his arms folded across his chest as he looked down his long, hooked nose at Sirius.

 

“I told you, Black.” He purred smoothly. “Harry is unmistakably my son.” He frowned suddenly, looking unaccountably cross. “Though I must say I don’t approve of the name Harry James at all. It’s not the sort of name suitable for the Prince family.”

 

Harry sucked in a sharp breath as his name – _‘Harry James’ –_ faded slightly until it was barely visible on the parchment, with only the surname of _‘Snape’_ still written darkly. “You want to change my name?” He asked, confused and surprised. “But…what will I tell everyone?”

 

As the adults turned to look at him, Harry sank down onto the nearest chair. He felt weak in the knees all of a sudden. “I don’t know what to tell everyone as it is. I’m a Snape, not a Potter. And I look different. I don’t know what to say. How to explain.”

 

No one spoke for long minutes and Harry’s mind spun. It kept circling back to the same things, over and over again. He looked different. His surname was different…and his given name could be changed as well, apparently. His trademark scar was gone, whisked away with his false-face. He had to return to school and tell all of this to people who would demand explanations that Harry couldn’t give. Everyone would stare and point and gossip. He would be even less-normal than ever.

 

And, quite suddenly, Harry realized that he didn’t want that. He couldn’t tolerate it, in fact. He wanted to be normal. He wanted the chance to be like everyone else. He wanted to be himself and not worry about being found lacking because of the expectations placed on him; because of his parents and what happened when he was a baby. He wanted to be just another student.

 

Harry finally looked up and met the intense gaze of the man who was his father. He whispered. “Change my name.” When Sirius made a small noise of distress, Harry ignored it in favor of watching his father’s face. His voice was pleading. “Change my name. Give me a new one. I’ll go to school and go through the Sorting again as _your_ son and finish school like that. _Harry Potter_ can go off somewhere for secret training. And I can be _normal_ for once. Please…” Harry’s eyes filled with tears as he begged. “ _Please_ , change my name…”

 

“Harry, you don’t mean that!” Sirius protested, rushing up and grabbing Harry’s arm in a bruising grip that made Harry cringe. “You don’t know what you’re saying!”

 

“Get your hands off my son, Black.” Severus said in a low, dangerous voice. “You’re hurting him and if his fair skin bruises I promise you’ll regret it.”

 

Sirius let go of Harry as though he’d been burned, looking stricken. “Harry, I’m sorry. It’s just…you can’t change your name! You can’t…you can’t just become someone else! You’re just in shock; you’re confused and you don’t know what you want! You…”

 

“Shut up, Siri.” Harry said and Sirius was stunned at how Harry’s voice was eerily reminiscent of Snape’s from only a moment earlier. He glared at his godfather with a fierceness that made Sirius take a startled step back. “You don’t _get it!_ Do you remember in school when everyone looked at you and all they saw was the rebellious wild-child of the Black family? How everyone was always after you to be _more like Regulus_ , or _more like your father_?” Sirius flinched, clearly remembering very well.

 

“Ever since I was eleven, everyone saw me a certain way. I’m _the hero._ I had to be the perfect Gryffindor; brave and confident and bold. I have to protect everyone and be strong all the time. I can’t ever back down or walk away or just hide in my room and be scared. I’m never allowed to ask for help or say, _‘No, actually, I don’t_ want _to do this. I don’t_ want _to be the hero while you all stand behind me and beg me to save everyone.’_ because if I ever said that then everyone would _hate_ me.”

 

Harry’s green eyes were blazing as he glared at Sirius. “I don’t want to do it anymore. I want to finish school as a normal teenager. I want to be able to date and not wonder if they like _me_ or if they like the _idea_ of _Harry-bloody-Potter_ instead.”

 

Harry turned back to Severus and said, very softly. “I can’t do it anymore. I need…I need a chance to be normal.” His green eyes were pleading now. “You can give me that…”

 

Tears gathered on Harry’s eyelashes as he saw the indecision on Snape’s face and so he said the only thing he could think of. The only thing he thought might work. “ _Please_ , Father...change my name.”

 

Severus nodded, very slowly. “Very well.” He turned to look at the scroll – still hovering in the air – and appeared thoughtful.

 

The room was silent for a long time. Sirius was looking like someone had kicked his puppy into the street and then run it over. It was clear that he didn’t approve of the decision his godson was making, but he apparently accepted it enough that he was holding his tongue and for that Harry was grateful. Remus had a supportive hand on his lover’s back, but he was looking at Harry sympathetically. He seemed to understand why Harry was making this choice. Harry appreciated that, more than he could have put into words. As a werewolf, Remus was used to being judged by _what_ he was, rather than by _who_ he was, so if anyone had been likely to understand it was him. Harry just hoped the other man would be able to explain it properly to his godfather later. He didn’t want Sirius hurt by this, but he needed to do something for himself for once.

 

Albus was looked at Harry with sad blue eyes. Harry knew the man regretted all of the awful things he’d had to deal with during his childhood and his early years at Hogwarts. Albus hated that so much weight rested on Harry’s young shoulders. He apparently wasn’t going to interfere with this because of that; he wanted to do what he could to help Harry have some small amount of normalcy in his life. It wouldn’t be much and it wouldn’t be for long – he only had two years left of school, after all – but it was certainly better than nothing.

 

Finally, after nearly twenty minutes during which no one spoke, Severus asked quietly. “Do you have any preferences for your new name? Anything you don’t want it to be?”

 

Harry considered this for a long moment then simply said. “I want it to be something suitable.”

 

Although Sirius stared at him as though he were insane, Severus merely nodded which Harry took to mean that his father understood what he meant. Purebloods liked to name their children unique – if ostentatious – things. Even Andromeda – who had been disowned for breaking with tradition and marrying a Muggleborn – had named her daughter something unique (if not quite in keeping with traditions for her family). And while Tonks complained fiercely about being called Nymphadora, Harry knew that some part of her understood. Her name meant something; it meant she was part of something larger than herself. It meant she belonged to a history that could be traced back for more than seven generations.

 

Harry longed for that for himself. He wanted to belong. He wanted to be part of a family. And while he loved Sirius very much, and while the Weasleys were his family in his heart, Harry wanted to belong in _every_ way. That included blood. Harry wanted to be able to look at photos or a genealogy and know that the people listed were _his_. That he was connected to each of them, with lines he could trace. And to be a part of that family with his name. A name – given by his father – to suit his heritage.

 

Finally, after another few minutes of silence, Severus spoke. Harry’s name vanished from the line and the new one glistened, wet and shiny, in stark black ink on the creamy parchment. This name was _his_ in a way that his old name hadn’t been since he was a baby. His old name had belonged to everyone; every witch and wizard alive had claimed a piece of it. _This_ name...this name was his and his alone, to share with whom he wanted, or not. To keep to himself if he chose, or allow to be used as he willed. Harry whispered the name aloud – almost to himself – and felt a rising glow of magic within him. Yes, this name was _his._

 

“Epitome Kearn Snape.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Harry sat in his bedroom at Grimmauld Place. His _former_ -bedroom, he corrected himself. It wasn’t his anymore. His trunk was neatly packed with his old school things, his broom, the photo album from Hagrid, the few gifts his friends had given him over the years (including all of his Weasley sweaters), his invisibility cloak, the Marauder’s Map, and a few outfits that Albus had kindly resized for him. The rest of the clothing that Sirius had picked out and bought for him earlier in the summer was being left here. They were the sorts of clothes worn by the godson of Sirius Black; they were not the sort of things worn by the son of Severus Snape. They were Harry James Potter’s clothes, not Epitome Kearn Snape’s. Epitome would need new clothing; clothing that suited who he could be now that there were no expectations weighing him down.

 

Harry looked up at the sound of a creaking floorboard to see Sirius in the doorway, looking pale and drawn and miserable. Harry swallowed hard, but stood and opened his arms. Sirius came across the room and hugged Harry tightly. “I’m sorry.” Harry whispered as he wrapped his arms around his godfather’s neck and held on tightly. “I know that doesn’t fix things, but it’s true. I’m sorry. I don’t want to hurt you, but this is something I need to do.”

 

Sirius released him and stepped back, wiping at his eyes. “I know.” He said hoarsely. “I won’t pretend I’m happy about any of this, because I’m not. I don’t want to lose you when I’ve only just gotten you. I don’t want you living with Snivellus. I…”

 

“Don’t call him that.” Harry said, softly but firmly, cutting Sirius off. “You two don’t get along; fine, I get that. But he’s my father and you’re my godfather. You’re both part of my life. You both matter to me. I don’t want you two fighting all of the time.” Harry looked down at his shoes and added. “I’ve got enough going on right now. I don’t need that, too.”

 

Sirius stared at Harry for moment, then looked away and nodded. “Sorry.” He mumbled. “Habit.”

 

“It’s all right.” Harry replied, his voice still soft. “I know this is going to take some time to adjust to, for everyone. I just don’t want to lose you because of this choice.”

 

Sirius smiled wanly at Harry. “You could never lose me.” He told Harry simply. “You’re my godson and I love you. No matter what. Don’t ever forget that, Harry. I love you.”

 

“Epitome.” Harry said. He sighed at the annoyance that flashed on Siri’s face. “It’s my name now, Siri. You know that and you’re going to have to get used to it. Epitome.”

 

Siri pulled a face. “I suppose. Well, whatever your name, I love you.”

 

Harry’s lips pulled up into a small smile. “I love you too, Siri. Promise.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Harry stood in the doorway of the room he’d been given. They had Flooed to Snape’s house – which was apparently in Wiltshire – and Harry had been given a quick tour. The house was quite large and he’d had a few rooms to choose from. This one – the one he’d chosen – was lovely. The bed was made of dark wood, as was the rest of the furniture. The bedding was all a deep rich green, with accents in a pale silvery-purple. The carpet was a dark charcoal grey. The colors didn’t seem like the sort to go together, and Severus had seemed surprised at his choice, but Harry liked the room. It was soothing and seemed like the antithesis of everything he’d always been expected to like.

 

Harry smiled at Hedwig, who was happily surveying the room from a perch in the corner nearest the large French doors that led to a balcony. “Guess you like it too, huh, girl?” He asked softly, walking over to her and stroking her feathers lightly. “We’ve got some adjusting to do, but I think we’re going to be okay. I really do.”

 

“Epi?” Harry turned at Snape’s voice, surprised at the nickname. “I wondered if you were hungry. The House Elves have prepared lunch…”

 

“Oh, er…” Harry smiled slightly when his stomach growled. “Yeah, I could eat something.” He looked at Severus curiously and asked. “You…I mean, _we_ have house elves?”

 

Severus nodded. “Yes, Epi. This house is Prince Manor. When my grandfather died, I was informed that although he had disowned my mother he had not disowned me. I inherited everything, including the house elves.” He smiled tightly and added. “One day, this will all belong to you.”

 

Harry’s eyes widened. “Oh. I…I guess I didn’t think about that.” Harry followed Severus out of the room and through the house in silence.

 

When they reached the dining room and were seated, he spoke again. “Will you tell me about your family, Sir?” Harry couldn’t help the burning curiosity he felt.

 

Severus blinked at Harry in surprise. “They’re your family too, Epi.” He sighed as he began to take sandwiches from the large platter on the table. “And I thought you’d decided to call me Father. You did at Black’s house.”

 

Harry bit his lip, then selected two sandwiches carefully. He broke off a small piece of one and placed it in his mouth, chewing slowly while he thought. Finally he said. “I suppose I wasn’t sure you’d want me to call you that just yet.” He finally admitted. “And anyway, Father is really formal. Which I guess suits you fine, but it’s not really something I’m used to.” He stared intently at his food, breaking off more small pieces from his sandwich and dropping them into a little pile on the plate. “I can try, if you like.”

 

“Eat your food, don’t play with it.” Severus said, almost absently. “And you may call me whatever you are the most comfortable with.” He paused, then said. “Any form of paternal address would please me greatly, but if you’re not ready I understand. Is it alright that I’m calling you Epi? Would you prefer Epitome?”

 

Harry dropped the sandwich he’d been shredding and smiled slightly at his father. “No, I don’t mind Epi at all. It’s nice to have a nickname, actually.” He bit his lip again, then said slowly. “I think I should get used to calling you Dad. So I might say ‘sir’ accidentally, but I’m going to try. I just think Father is really too formal and…I don’t know…pompous.”

 

The older man made a soft sound of amusement and Harry giggled quietly. Then he sobered and said. “So, will you tell me about _our_ family? Dad…” he added in a whisper.

 

Severus nodded slowly. “After lunch, if you don’t mind waiting. We can go through the portrait gallery and I’ll explain who people are.”

 

“Er…yeah, okay.” Harry smiled tentatively. It was odd, Snape being so nice to him, but it wasn’t unpleasant. He knew it would take them both some time to stop feeling awkward and hesitant around each other, but he was looking forward to getting there. For the first time in his life (that he could remember) he had a parent. A real, honest-to-goodness, parent. Even if it _was_ Severus Snape. He couldn’t have been happier.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Harry followed Severus silently into the portrait gallery on the second floor. He stopped just inside the door, staring around in awe. The room was long – he thought it might run the length of the Manor – and narrow; it was about the width of the corridors at Hogwarts. It had a parquet floor that was beautifully done – in no less than five different colors – with bold geometric shapes and delicate, intricate flowers. And though Harry didn’t know much about architecture or building, he did know (thanks to Aunt Petunia) that parquet floors – especially ones in old Manor houses – were a sign of wealth and privilege. The walls were covered in gold-and-champagne printed wallpaper. The design on the wallpaper was intricate and vaguely floral. It was also beautiful.

 

There were portraits lining the walls and Harry looked around at them in shock. There were so many; more than he’d ever imagined. Each portrait had a heavy, black wooden frame with a small name plaque under it. Some of the portraits were large, full-body images. Others were smaller and showed their occupants only from the chest upwards. A few of the frames, Harry was unsurprised to see, were currently unoccupied. Between each of the portraits were black wall sconces of intricate, twisted iron. Each sconce was the same design – a serpent with its body coiled and its head raised, with a flower that looked like a tulip of some sort above it. The candle for each sconce rested within the flower’s petals. They were gorgeous and detailed and ornate. The center strip of the room had several black wrought iron benches and many potted plants. Harry felt suddenly out-of-place in such elegant surroundings.

 

“Come here, Epi.” Snape’s velvety voice jarred him from his study of the room and he quickly began moving towards where his father was standing next to a portrait. “This is Eileen Prince Snape.” He said softly. “My mother.”

 

Harry turned wide-eyes on the portrait of his grandmother as he approached. She had the same black hair Harry now had; it was pulled back into an elegant braided bun with glittering jewel-toned beads sparkling brightly against the darkness of it. Her nose was slender and slightly-upturned at the end. Her eyes were black like Snape’s and glittered with sharp intelligence beneath slightly heavy brows. Her thin pink lips were curved in a sneer as she looked at her son from her place in the frame. Her portrait showed her only from the waist up; she wore a dark purple gown of some sort and looked to be around sixteen or seventeen years old when it was painted. She wasn’t _pretty_ , per say, but she wasn’t _un_ attractive, either.

 

“Really, Severus…” Eileen’s voice was lower than most girls’ and nearly as silky as her son’s. Her eyes glittered as she looked at Severus and chided softly. “Who have you brought to visit me? You know I don’t like guests.”

 

“Er…hi.” Harry said quietly as he stepped around Snape so that Eileen could see him. He bit his lip and looked up at her with wide green eyes, nervously waiting for her reaction. “Oh, er…it’s very nice to meet you.” He hastily added, belatedly remembering his manners.

 

“Merlin!” Eileen gasped, one pale, long-fingered hand flying up to press against her lips. Her eyes were huge and Harry noticed she was trembling faintly. Finally, she swallowed hard and lowered her hand; she kept her eyes locked on Harry’s face as she said in a breathless voice. “Severus, how…? I mean, when…? I don’t understand...why didn’t you say anything?”

 

Mirth danced in Snape’s eyes as he answered. “Mother, this is my son.” He frowned and continued a bit darkly. “His parentage was hidden until today with a Changeling Charm. I have only just been able to claim him.” Ignoring the portrait’s gasp, Severus added. “Mother, meet your grandson, Epitome Kearn Snape.” He turned to Harry and said quietly. “Epi, meet your grandmother.”

 

Harry flushed under her intense scrutiny, feeling an edgy sort of panic rush through him as he noticed tears in her eyes. “Oh, please don’t cry!” He cried out, dismayed. “Please…”

 

Eileen’s lips quirked up into an affectionate smile and she carefully dabbed at her tears with a lacy handkerchief. “You’re very sweet, Epitome.” Eileen murmured, sniffling slightly. “My tears are ones of joy, for I never thought to see the Prince line continued. I believed my son would be the last of our family.” She gave him another watery smile. “You’re so beautiful, Epitome. It warms my heart.”

 

Harry flushed darker, ducking his head shyly. “Thank you.” He murmured politely, peeking curiously up at her from under his lashes. “What should I call you?”

 

“Grandmother, I would imagine.” Eileen said with a quiet laugh. “I never thought anyone would ever call me that…it pleases me greatly. You will have to come and visit me often, Epi. _Very_ often.”

 

“He will, Mother.” Severus drawled, rolling his eyes. “Epi is very eager to learn more about our family. I’m certain he’ll be in the gallery a lot. Now, if you’ll excuse us, there are others he should meet.”

 

“Of course.” Eileen smiled once more at Harry. “Please come back soon, Epi. I look forward to getting to know you.”

 

“I will, Grandmother.” Harry promised and though the word _grandmother_ felt funny on his tongue he couldn’t help the smile it brought to his lips. It was a _family_ title. And he was finally able to use it.

 

Harry was still smiling as they walked a few portraits away – past both empty and occupied frames – to one that held a slender, sallow man who resembled Severus Snape in nearly every respect. Except his nose, which Harry was nearly certain came from the Muggle man Eileen had married. None of the portraits seemed to share that trait, anyway. The man in the portrait was scowling down at them both, looking stern and disapproving. Harry frowned back; he didn’t appreciate being judged and found lacking by a painting.

 

“Pious Prince.” Severus said coldly and Harry could tell instantly that Snape did _not_ like this man. “This is my grandfather.” He sneered. “Pious, meet my son, Epitome.”

 

Harry’s eyes widened in understanding; this was the man who had disowned Eileen. Remembering what he’d learned of Snape’s childhood during Occlumency earlier that year, he also realized that this man was the reason Eileen had had nowhere to turn when her husband had turned abusive. “Hello.” Harry couldn’t help the icy tone of his voice; parents should never turn their backs on their children.

 

“Your _son_?” Pious peered down at Harry, looking stunned. “You’ve never married! This child is some bastard by-blow, isn’t he?” Pious sneered nastily at Severus. “I must say I’m surprised at how lovely the boy is; tell me, did you pay his mother for it, then? Must have, else how would you have managed to bed some chit pretty enough to make such a beautiful boy? Certainly paid for it, since she let the child be born out of wedlock rather than be stuck with you!”

 

Severus didn’t seem fazed by the man’s words. Instead, he smirked and said. “Oh, Lily was married when Epitome was born, Pious.” His grin widened, showing his teeth. “She just wasn’t married to _me_.”

 

Pious bristled and Harry couldn’t help the small snicker that escaped. “Think it’s funny that your mother was an adulterous whore, boy?” Pious snapped at him.

 

“Bite your tongue, old man.” Severus’ voice had grown weary now. “Epi has a bit of a temper and he just might set you on fire if you speak ill of Lily.”

 

“The impertinent brat wouldn’t dare!” Pious growled, looking terribly offended. “I’m his ancestor! If not for me, he wouldn’t exist!”

 

Harry rolled his eyes at the pompous man. “And I’m beginning to think I’d be better off if that were the case.” He said, spitefully delighting in the way the man’s eyes narrowed. He turned to Severus and said earnestly. “Honestly, Dad, I think it’s great I’ve got this noble Pureblood history now and all, but if this is what your family is like…”

 

“Yes, well, they’re not _all_ like Pious, thankfully.” Severus told him, his eyes softening slightly as he looked at his son. “I suppose all you can do when he starts wearing on your nerves is what I do. Just remind yourself that your blood is diluted by Muggle blood on one side of your family. And, truthfully, yours is diluted on both. So you’ll likely never wind up like _him_.”

 

“Like him?” Harry asked, grinning. “You mean dead and judging people from a frame on a wall? I certainly hope not!”

 

A rich chuckle sounded from across the gallery and Harry turned, looking over the benches and potted plants to see who had made the sound. It seemed to have come from a full-size portrait directly across from them. Harry began walking over to it without a thought, weaving between trees, and planters full of ferns, and benches. The man in the painting was reclining lazily on a chaise, looking utterly relaxed.

 

His long, dark hair was pulled back into a ponytail. His eyes were a light blue that sparkled with laughter and mischief. His face was nearly an exact match for Harry’s new face; they could easily have been twins, if not for the difference in eye color. Harry stared up at the man in silent shock. The man wore tight black leather trousers, black dragon hide boots, and a white button-up shirt with ruffles at both the throat and the cuffs. He also had a cigarette dangling from his fingers and a tumbler of some sort of rich amber liquid on the table in front of him. He was the very picture of self-indulgent sexuality. Harry was startled to realize that the room captured in canvas behind the man was the same bedroom Harry now occupied. He felt Snape’s presence beside him, but didn’t turn.

 

“Who are you?” Harry whispered, still staring raptly at the man.

 

A very sensual smile curved the man’s full lips and he purred. “Anathema Prince, portrait painted in 1909 when I was twenty-five; I didn’t live much longer, unfortunately. Still, I enjoyed every bit of my life.” Anathema brought his cigarette to his lips and took a long pull before blowing a stream of smoke and adding in a slow, husky drawl. “Every. Single. Bit.”

 

Harry blinked slowly, then turned to look at Severus. “What do you know about Anathema, Dad? He looks _just_ like me…”

 

“He was Pious’ uncle, though Pious would have still been quite young – less than ten years old, I’d imagine – when Anathema died.” Snape replied, looking at the portrait with a frown. “He never married, nor did he have any children. I do not know much else.”

 

Suddenly there was a low, trilling sound and Severus sighed. “I’m afraid I have potions brewing that need my attention, Epi. Please, feel free to roam the Manor. There’s also a park nearby if you wish to get some fresh air.” He glanced at his watch and added. “Just head out the front door and make a right; you’ll find it eventually. I’ll see you at dinner. It’s served at seven. I don’t know if I’ll be available for tea.”

 

Harry nodded and Severus gave him a fleeting smile before stalking out of the room. Harry turned back to the portrait to find Anathema watching him. “I’m Epitome.” He said softly, finding himself once-again transfixed by the man in the portrait. “It’s nice to meet you, Anathema.”

 

Anathema’s lips curved upwards once more, in the same sensual smile as before. “Hello, Epi. Please, call me Ana.” He tipped his head to the side. “You are a Prince, but you were not raised one. I do wonder how like us you are, considering…”

 

“I don’t know.” Harry admitted with a small shrug. “I don’t really know anything about any of you, so it’s hard to say, really.” Harry tipped his head to the side curiously and asked. “Why did you never marry? I thought Purebloods did the whole arranged-marriage-thing? Especially when _you_ were young…”

 

Ana looked suddenly pensive. “My parents did not approve of the person I set my cap on.” He said darkly, reaching out for his drink and taking a large sip. His eyes darkened as he began to brood. “I was by far the most beautiful Prince ever born and they had high-hopes of marrying me into one of the better Pureblood families, you see…”

 

“One of the _better_ families?” Harry questioned, taking a half-step closer to the painting. “I don’t understand. Aren’t the Princes a good family?”

 

“A good family? Yes, of course. Wealthy and decently-connected, back in my day.” Ana gave a slight shrug and added. “But there were always better ones. Those with more money, higher connections, better looks…and my startling beauty gave my parents hope that we could connect to one of those. The Blacks, the Malfoys, the Potters,” – Harry startled slightly at his old surname – “the Gamps, the Rosiers…any of those, really.”

 

“And you didn’t like any of the girls from those families?” Harry asked, curiosity etched into every line of his face as he added. “I’m sorry to pry; I just want to understand…”

 

Ana shrugged again, sucking forcefully on his cigarette before speaking. “I don’t mind answering. It was a long time ago.” He gave Harry a slightly-wicked smile and said. “I didn’t like any girl, Epi. Not from any family. My tastes ran to others of my own gender; my parents disapproved.”

 

“Oh.” Harry’s eyes were wide and his mouth hung open for a moment. Then he shut it with a sharp click of his teeth and blushed slightly. “So…this boy you liked…was he…”

 

“Arcturus Black was my best friend.” Ana’s voice had gone soft and wistful; full of longing. “We were in the same year at Hogwarts; both of us were Slytherins. I loved him almost immediately. He was gorgeous and witty and powerful. And he often told me no one could compare to me for beauty; he said no woman could hold a candle to my grace or my loveliness.”

 

Harry held still and remained silent as Anathema spoke, sadly and longingly. “I begged my parents to betroth me to him. He was a Black; what more could they ask for in a match for me? What more could they ever hope for? And I loved him and he loved me. We _wanted_ to be married.”

 

“Can men marry men?” Harry didn’t mean to interrupt, but the question tumbled from his lips without conscious thought.

 

Ana’s full lips quirked up, some of the stark despair in his gaze disappearing into amusement. “Yes, Epi, they can. In our world, there is only a slight stigma from marrying another man. So long as there is eventually a child – an heir – there is no issue. And believe me, Epi, I would have happily born Arcturus a child. I’d have born him a dozen, if he so desired it.”

 

Harry blinked slowly, utterly stunned. “A man can get pregnant?” He breathed the question in absolute shock. “What…but, how?”  


Ana chuckled then, shaking his head slowly. “Poor little Epi…so ignorant! Magic, that’s how.” He grinned down at Harry again. “Though it takes more time and dedication to impregnate a man, I assure you it is quite possible.” Ana’s grin slipped from his face and he looked sad again. “But my parents refused to allow me to wed him and – in time – his parents betrothed him to a young lady.”

 

“They could not keep us apart, though.” Anathema continued, absentmindedly sipping from his glass before setting it back on the table before the chaise. “And when Lysandra – Arcturus’ fiancé – found us together, she had a fit and then decided to get rid of me.” Ana shrugged. “That was only a few months after this portrait was done. I was poisoned shortly after, you see. And though no one could prove she’d done it, there were suspicions.”

 

“And Arcturus still married her.” Harry said, remembering the names from the Black family tapestry at Grimmauld place. “Even though she killed you, he married her…”

 

Ana nodded. “You’re very naïve, Epi. Of course he married her. She was his betrothed; he had no choice in the matter.” He smiled softly. “But Arcturus never stopped loving me. He never stopped wishing it had been me he married.” Seeing Harry’s questioning look, Ana explained. “I have a second portrait. It is currently in someone’s attic, but for a very long time it hung in Arcturus’ bedroom. He loved me as much as I loved him. And I have never forgiven my parents for keeping us apart.”

 

Harry nodded in agreement. “I don’t think I could forgive something like that, either. But thankfully I don’t think Dad would care who I fell in love with. Not as long as I was happy. So whoever it is – boy, girl, poor, rich, Pureblood, Muggleborn, merperson…it won’t matter to him.” Harry smiled slightly. “I guess I’m pretty lucky, huh?”

 

“Indeed, Epitome.” Anathema intoned, smiling softly down at the young man. “You are, at the very least, far luckier than I.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, before we go any further with the story I need to clear something up. ‘Epitome’ is pronounced “Eh-pih-tome’ and ‘Kearn’ is pronounced “kern”. Harry’s nickname is Epi – pronounced “Eh-pee”. So now that that’s cleared up…I hope this doesn’t seem rushed to anyone. I’m going off of Harry’s emotions and his desire to be normal for once. It’s not something he ever thought he’d have, but Snape can give it to him and Harry wants it enough to do practically anything for it. And Severus loved Lily. Harry (Epi, now) is his son; born to the woman he loved. How can he do anything but love him? Especially once Harry no longer looks like James. He looks like what he is…a combination of Severus and Lily. And Sev is helpless to do anything but love this beautiful child he’s been given. Hope it makes sense! 
> 
> So, I really had a blast with this chapter. I enjoyed the portrait gallery, especially. Designing it took me quite a while. <3 Feedback is, as always, appreciated and loved and cherished. ~ LS


	3. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I _love_ that 16 people have bookmarked this. That's so cool. But I was more than a little disappointed at how few of those 16 people had commented. I mean, obviously you lot like it or you wouldn't be bookmarking it; I know I almost never bookmark something unless it's something I totally love. Which is great; I'm so thrilled you guys are enjoying it; really. But considering the amount of time and effort I'm pouring into this fic (and believe me, there's hours of research, and seating charts, and class-plans, and career choices, and tons of stuff that goes into the chapters I've been working on in the last month or so), I would super-duper-appreciate comments. They make all of the headaches and frustration and agony that comes with writing something of these epic proportions worthwhile.
> 
> Happy reading! ~ LS

After Anathema’s comment about Harry being lucky, the man had slipped out of his portrait and disappeared. Unwilling to hang around in the gallery any more just then – in case he encountered more unfriendly relatives like Pious – Harry left the room. He debated about going up to his room and unpacking, but he really didn’t own that much. Instead, he decided to take his father’s advice and go for a walk. Some fresh air would help clear his head, if nothing else.

 

Harry was soon meandering down the side of the road, away from the Manor and in the direction Snape had said the park was. After about fifteen minutes of walking, Harry saw an area surrounded by a high wall ahead. The wall was stone and seemed to enclose a very large area. Harry curiously approached, peering through the iron bars of the little gate that went across what appeared to be the only opening in the wall. He blinked rapidly; it seemed foggy all of a sudden. Squinting and leaning in, he braced one hand on the gate.

 

The second he touched it, it swung open and the fog before his eyes cleared. Clearly it was a spell of some sort. Harry stepped through the gate and looked around in awe. It would have seemed like a typical park at first glance, but it wasn’t. There was a small stone castle off to the left side; several children were running along the miniature parapets, shrieking with laughter. To the right was a large play area. It had slides and swings and monkey bars, just like any park. But this was clearly magical equipment; it changed colors and there was a spot where there were levitating platforms that spanned a space between two pieces of the playground. A little boy was carefully jumping from one levitating piece to the next as though they were stepping-stones across a pond.

 

Harry couldn’t believe it; this place was amazing. He looked around and realized that there were no adults present. All of the children appeared to be under the age of eight and were accompanied by house elves. The elves were either accompanying the children around the equipment (in the case of the smaller children) or gathered together off to the side, sitting on the grass and talking as they watched over their charges (in the case of the older children). Harry tried for a moment to imagine what it would have been like to grow up here, with Severus Snape. Would he have played here as a child? Would a house elf have accompanied him, or would Snape have brought him? He watched the children playing tag in the castle and wondered if he would have had many friends as a child if he’d lived here.

 

Harry walked over to where the house elves were gathered and sank down onto the grass, drawing his knees up to his chest and just watching the children play. He tried to imagine himself at their age, running with other children and laughing and playing. It was hard to picture, because he’d never done it. At that age, his primary goal had been to keep away from Dudley and his gang so he wouldn’t get beaten. He certainly hadn’t had any friends. Resting his chin on his knees, Harry sighed morosely. It didn’t do any good to dwell on might-have-beens, but sometimes it was hard not to.

 

It was several hours later that the house elves began gathering up their charges and popping out with them. Harry watched them, confused by the way they were all leaving at exactly the same moment, and finally a very small elf with large blue eyes smiled tentatively at him and said, “Tea time, Sir. Children is to being taken home for tea.”

 

Harry smiled back. “Thank you for explaining.” He said softly. “I was confused.” The elf nodded, its large ears flapping, and then popped out with its charge – a little boy of five years, with curly brown hair and blue eyes and freckles.

 

Harry sat on the grass until everyone – house elves and children – were gone. Then he bit his lip and looked around nervously before getting to his feet and heading for the play-area. Harry had never had a chance to be a child or have a parent; he wanted as much of this experience as possible. There was no one around to see him being silly, after all. Harry climbed a magically-spinning ladder (it was harder than he’d thought it would be) and then – glancing around again first to make sure he was still alone – he began hopping across the levitating platforms. He wasn’t very coordinated most of the time – unless he was on a broom – but he seemed to have much better balance suddenly. It occurred to him that perhaps his lack of grace and balance had been due to his body being altered by a spell. Pushing the thought away for later examination, Harry continued playing – using slides and swings and just exploring the equipment – for nearly an hour.

 

When he was feeling flushed and warm and a little dizzy from the heat and the sun, he made his way over to the castle. As he approached, the drawbridge lowered across the little moat surrounding it. Harry smiled and walked across it. Then he touched a small engraving of an upwards-pointing-arrow that he’d watched the children push and the portcullis door raised itself. Harry’s grin widened – this was definitely the coolest thing he’d ever seen at a park. Harry walked into the castle-proper, which was like a little miniature Great Hall. There were four picnic tables set up and hanging on the walls were little wooden shields and swords to play with. There were also two wooden thrones set against the back wall. Off to the left, there were stone steps leading up to the parapets and there were three wooden doors; two off to the right and one to the left.

 

Harry walked over to the right and peeked into the first door. It held what looked like a little closet with several changing stalls and a three-way mirror. It was full of children’s costumes in various sizes – knights and princesses; jesters and kings; queens and princes; fairies and elves. Harry – feeling a little silly but not caring – took a circlet of silver and placed it on top of his hair. It would have looked ridiculous with his messy mop, but since his hair now fell smooth and sleek to his cheekbones the circlet settled neatly around his forehead and banded his hair and looked very nice. Harry then walked back out of the room and peeked into the second door. It contained a small bathroom, which Harry thought was quite practical since – inevitably – the children would need to use it while playing.

 

Harry crossed to the door on the other side and peeked in to see a round room with a window and window seat and a spiraling staircase. Decided it must lead up to the top of the tower he knew he was standing in, Harry walked over to the window seat. He sat down, pulling his knees up to his chest again and draping his arms loosely around his legs. Harry sighed softly and stared out the window at an expanse of grass and wildflowers and imagined dressing up as a prince or a knight and pretending to slay dragons while other children played as jesters and princesses and kings around him. He imagined having a mock-sword-fight with some child – perhaps his best friend – while yelling things like _‘_ _Engarde_ _!’_ and _‘Die, villain!’_ before collapsing to the grass, breathless with laughter and flushed with happiness. He imagined his father – Severus Snape – wiping his tears and tending a scraped knee, like he’d seen Aunt Petunia do for Dudley when they were young. He imagined growing up in this place, loved and wanted and cared for, and his heart ached with what he’d lost because of his mother’s spell. And – for just the briefest moment – he couldn’t help hating Lily for what she’d done; for what she’d stolen from him.

 

Suddenly Harry heard laughter and voices; he froze and listened. “Well, we’re teenagers!” Harry would recognize that smooth, cultured voice anywhere – Draco Malfoy. “I just think it’s silly.”

 

“Yes, we _are_ teenagers, Dray! And we’ve not been in here in years and soon we’re going to be adults and I say we enjoy being silly, reckless teens while we still can and have a little fun!” Harry was pretty sure that that low, female voice was Pansy Parkinson. He listened to stuff being moved around and then heard her declare. “I’m going to put this crown on and sit on the Queen’s throne and act imperiously and I don’t _care_ if it’s silly! I’m fifteen; I’m entitled to be silly once in a while!”

 

Another female voice that Harry didn’t recognize chimed in. “Well, I’m putting on this princess hat and then I’ll go sit in the tower and wait to be rescued by my Prince Charming!” There was a giggle.

 

“You’re both completely ridiculous.” Draco drawled and Harry rolled his eyes; trust the boy to be completely stuck up about something as fun as playing pretend, even with his friends. Harry agreed with the girls; if you couldn’t be a little silly as a teenager with your friends, then that was just sad.

 

“Oh, don’t act like you didn’t love this place too, Dray.” Pansy chided and her voice sounded closer; Harry assumed she’d left the closet-area and was back in the castle-proper. “I remember how you used to dress up as a knight and pretend to slay dragons! One would have thought you’d be a Gryffindor, the way you insisted on rushing off on ‘quests’ and rescuing people all the time!”

 

Harry’s mouth fell open; Draco Malfoy had enjoyed pretending to be the hero as a child? He suddenly had a very clear mental picture of a small, pale, platinum-blonde child dressed in a tunic and chainmail and swinging a little sword, fighting an imaginary dragon to save the princess. It was a sweet and endearing image and Harry was a little startled at how easy it was to picture. He had never imagined Draco as the ‘Knight-in-Shining-Armor’ type, but it seemed to suddenly fit.

 

Draco’s voice sounded embarrassed when he spoke again. “There’s nothing wrong with pretending to be a hero, Pansy. I wasn’t _really_ rushing stupidly into danger, after all.” Then he snorted. “And I couldn’t be a Gryffindor if I _tried_. I’ve got too much self-preservation to be one of those idiots.”

 

Harry was about to bristle at the insult to his House when Pansy’s laughing voice startled him into silence with her next comment. “Now, now, Dray…if you aren’t going to play pretend than you mustn’t pretend anything else, either. Everyone here knows you’ve a crush on a Gryffindor, even if I’m the only one who knows which one.”

 

“And you’ve got a crush on one of them too!” Draco cried indignantly, sounding suddenly much younger than his sixteen years. “Don’t act like it’s just me! And yours is more embarrassing than mine, so if you say another word I will too!” There was laughter from several people and then Draco added. “And besides, I’ve decided I’m going to like someone else this year. A Slytherin…or perhaps a Ravenclaw.”

 

There was a snort and then a drawling, masculine voice said. “With your luck, Dray, you’ll end up in love with a sodding Hufflepuff.”

 

More delighted laughter followed that pronouncement then the female voice Harry didn’t recognize – made breathless with laughter – said. “Oh, can’t you just see it? Dray mooning after some little Fluff-N-Puff? That’s _too_ funny!”

 

Harry was startled to hear her voice sounding very close indeed and then suddenly the door opened and a petite blonde – with a conical pink princess hat perched on her head and wearing white jeans and a pink blouse – was standing in the doorway. She blinked large blue eyes at him and he flushed, embarrassed to have been caught eavesdropping. She just stood there, staring at him, for a long moment. Conversation continued in the other room, but neither of them noticed, caught in staring at each other. Harry knew the girl was a Slytherin and in his year, but he couldn’t seem to remember her name; she wasn’t one of the ones he encountered regularly and she was often very quiet in class. But it was Green-something-or-other, he thought.

 

Suddenly a younger-sounding female voice said, “Daffy, what’re you _doing_? Why are you just standing in the doorway like that?”

 

The blonde – Daffy, had the other person said? – turned to look over her shoulder and said. “There’s someone in here…a boy.” She turned back to Harry and smiled tentatively. “Hello.”

 

“Er…hi.” Harry said, still embarrassed. “Why don’t we go back into the main room and I can introduce myself to you and your friends?”

 

The girl nodded. “Yes, okay.”

 

She then backed out of the room and Harry unfolded himself from the window seat and followed. He didn’t step into the castle-proper, though. Instead, he stopped in the doorway. He leaned his right shoulder against the doorframe and crossed his right foot over the top of his left one. Then he tipped his head to the left and looked around. He’d been right about Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson. The unknown male voice belonged to Blaise Zabini and in addition to the Green-something girl, Daffy, there was a younger girl who Harry thought might be a Slytherin as well. She had dark brown hair and blue eyes and looked a lot like the blonde girl so he figured they might be sisters.

 

“Sorry for not announcing myself.” Harry said softly. “I was finding your conversation very interesting and amusing, though. Do you lot live in the area?”

 

It was Draco who answered, as Harry had assumed he would. “Yes, we do. Who are you? Are you visiting someone?” The blonde had taken one of the swords off the wall and was casually swinging it through the air in a smooth, practiced figure-eight motion.

 

Harry shook his head. “No, not visiting. I’ve just moved in with my dad, actually.” He smiled sweetly and added. “You’re Lucius Malfoy’s son, aren’t you?” When Draco’s eyes widened slightly he added. “The white-blonde hair is kind of a giveaway.”

 

Draco nodded and Pansy spoke from where she was seated on the one throne. “I didn’t realize any of the estates had recently changed hands.”

 

Harry’s lips curved upwards into a smile. “The property has been in Dad’s family for a long time. And he’s owned it for a while. Lived in it too, actually. I’ve just moved in, but he’s been here.”

 

“Why did you only just move in?” The young girl asked as she stepped into the closet-room. “I mean, did you live with your mother or something? Why the switch?”

 

“I only just found out who my dad is.” Harry replied, pondering how much of the truth he could get away with saying. Deciding that the best way to lie was to tell as much of the truth as possible he added. “Until today, everyone I knew thought I was an orphan. Now that I know who my father is, I’ll be living with him and attending Hogwarts. I’ve been privately tutored until now.” Albus had agreed that, rather than trying to convince people Harry had attended another school previously and forcing him to try to memorize facts about said school, it was best to just say that Harry had been homeschooled.

 

“I wonder if we know your father.” The younger girl made the comment as she came back out of the closet-room and Harry was amused to see that she’d attached blue and white fairy wings to the back of her peacock-blue tee-shirt; she was wearing jeans like the blonde, but hers were black. “I mean, if he lives in the area, we might have met him.”

 

“You know him.” Harry said with a grin. “Trust me.” Everyone looked skeptical, so Harry added. “Why don’t you all introduce yourselves and then I’ll tell you who I am and you can confirm that you know my father.”

 

“Well, you already guessed who I am. Draco Malfoy.” Draco drawled, bringing the tip of his sword down to rest it against the stone floor, leaning on the hilt and looking every inch the indulgent prince. He wore a black and gold tunic-style shirt and black leather pants with black dragon hide boots and Harry realized with amusement that the Slytherin boy had placed a golden circlet around his own head. “I’m sixteen, I’ll be starting my Sixth Year at Hogwarts in September, and I’m a Slytherin.”

 

Pansy flung one leg up and over the arm of the throne, ignoring the fact that it hiked up her floor-length brown and green gypsy skirt until it was bunched around her knees, revealing the knee-high brown suede boots she was wearing. Her cream-colored blouse only had a few buttons buttoned and her high, full breasts were spilling out. A silver crown with green jewels was perched on top of her short, dark hair which was still cut in the same sleek, layered bob it had always been. Her brown eyes sparkled with amusement; she was clearly enjoying herself.

 

“I’m Pansy Parkinson. Slytherin Sixth Year, just like Dray, though I won’t be sixteen for another week.” She grinned wickedly. “I’m also the reckless one among us; I tend to come up with outrageous things for us all to do. So you’ll like me best if you hang around; I’m the most fun.”

 

The blonde girl snorted. “What she means is, she’s easy.” She said, seating herself at one of the picnic tables and smiling. “So if you’re interested in a tumble, our Pan is the way to go.”

 

“Fuck you.” Pansy said, but there was no heat in her voice and she was smiling. Then she winked at Harry and added. “Really, though…you’re very pretty. I wouldn’t mind giving you a go.”

 

“Er…no, thank you.” Harry said, confused as to why he was suddenly being propositioned when they didn’t even know his name yet. “I’m flattered, really…but no.”

 

The blonde snickered. “Awww…poor Pan. Turned down again. You’ll be a virgin forever, the way guys keep saying no to you throwing yourself at them.” Pansy stuck her tongue out at the girl, who continued quite casually. “I’m Daphne Greengrass. Sixteen, Slytherin, Sixth Year…you get the picture. Pan is my best friend and despite her teasing she’s got a good heart. And she’s really not easy; she’s a virgin and she’s madly in love with someone, though she won’t tell anyone but Dray who it is. She just likes to flirt. So don’t let her make you nervous cause she’s all talk.”

 

Pansy laughed delightedly, still grinning. “That’s true.” She agreed, still chuckling. “I’m a lot of fun anyway, though. Promise.”

 

“Yes, Pan. You’re loads of fun.” Draco said in a mocking voice. “Everyone loves to hang out with you; you’re the best; you’re _so_ pretty…”

 

“Bite me, you little drama-queen-bitch.” Pansy chirped happily. “It’s all true and you know it.”

 

Harry couldn’t help laughing. The Slytherins were always cold and dignified at school around the other Houses; this was an entirely different side of them. They were just as silly and teasing as Harry and his friends were. Perhaps a little bit meaner in their teasing, but no more so than Fred and George could be with their siblings. It was refreshing to see that they were just typical teenagers, at least in an environment where they felt secure.

 

The younger girl giggled and moved to sit on the table that Daphne was seated at. She began fiddling idly with the ends of Daphne’s long blonde hair as she spoke. “I’m Astoria, Daphne’s sister. Younger by two years, so I’ll be starting my Fourth Year in September. I’m a Slytherin as well, of course.” She flashed a dimple-revealing smile and added. “You can call me ‘Ria. Everyone does.”

 

Harry smiled back. Then Blaise stepped forward. He was dressed in black slacks and a pale purple, short-sleeved, button up shirt. The caramel-skinned boy was undeniably gorgeous. He looked, to Harry, like some sort of jungle cat. Beautiful and sleek and graceful, but dangerous. There was something of a feral light in his golden-green eyes as well. “I’m Blaise Zabini.” He purred in a low voice. “I’m a Sixth Year Slytherin as well, but unlike my friends, I,” Blaise flicked out his wand, muttered a spell, and conjured a long-stemmed red rose before continuing. “Am seventeen and thus able to use magic.” He held out the rose with a smirk.

 

Harry stared at the boy in shock; he’d not known Blaise was older. “Why are you only a Sixth Year?” He asked curiously; he knew the boy had been Sorted the same year he had, which meant he hadn’t been held back but had instead started a year late.

 

“”Mother travels a lot.” Blaise explained. “We were in China when I turned eleven and were going to India next. I didn’t want to miss that because of school, so Mother wrote to the Headmaster and asked that I be allowed to start school a year late.”

 

“Oh.” Harry blinked slowly. “That must have been exciting. I’ve never been to Asia before.”

 

Blaise smiled. “It was lovely, particularly India, if a bit hot. I quite enjoyed it. Do you not like flowers?” He asked then.

 

“What?” Harry asked, completely thrown by the seemingly random question.

 

“Flowers.” Blaise repeated. “Roses, to be precise.” The boy waved the rose slightly, then brought it to his nose to smell before extending it again. “I conjured it for you.”

 

“Oh!” Harry was startled. No one had ever given him a flower before.

 

Hesitantly, Harry straightened away from the doorway and walked over to Blaise, carefully accepting the rose. He brought it to his nose and inhaled deeply, closing his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, his eyes locked with Blaise’s golden-green gaze. Harry felt his breath catch at the intensity of that stare; the Slytherin’s eyes were filled with desire as he looked at Harry. Harry felt his cheeks turning pink under the heated look and his stomach seemed full of butterflies.

 

“Thank you…” Harry whispered, taking a half-step forward so he was even closer to the other boy. “It’s lovely, really.”

 

Draco’s cold voice cut into the moment, causing Harry’s head to snap around in shock. “What’s your name then? We’ve all given ours.”

 

Harry stared at him for a moment, confused at the anger on his face. “Er…my name?” Harry stammered, feeling lost for a moment. Then he shook his head and said. “Epitome. My name is Epitome. I’m nearly sixteen so I’ll be a Sixth Year at Hogwarts.” Harry felt it was best if Epitome didn’t share Harry Potter’s birthday; it was less-suspicious that way. “Won’t know my House until I get there, obviously.” Harry felt a little thrill run through him as he prepared to tell them all who is father was; this was going to be priceless. “My dad is…”

 

“There you are, Epi!” Harry’s head whipped around again at the dark, angry voice coming from the entrance to the castle. “The house elves said you didn’t come back for tea. I was worried you’d wandered and gotten lost! I should have sent an elf with you.”

 

Harry flushed when the Slytherins stared between him and his father in shocked silence, eyes and mouths wide open. He was torn between being pleased that Snape was worried about him and mortified at the idea of having a house elf following him around like he was a baby. “I’m not six, you know!” The words came out a bit harsher than he’d intended and he flinched at hearing it. Softening his tone, he added. “I don’t get lost easily, Dad. Really. I’m sorry I worried you; I didn’t realize how long I’d been here.”

 

Severus relaxed slightly and nodded. “That’s fine, Epi. I’m sorry if I overreacted. It’s just going to take me a little time to adjust to the fact that I’ve got a son. And that you’re really old enough to look out for yourself.” He turned to smile slightly at his students. “I see you’ve all met Epitome.”

 

“Your father is _Severus_?” Draco demanding, turning to glare at Harry. “How…that’s…” He turned to glare at Snape next. “You didn’t think to _tell me_ you had a son, Sev?”

 

Snape raised an eyebrow. “As I did not know I had one until a few hours ago, I had not had a chance to tell you, Draco. Calm yourself.” He turned to Harry. “You didn’t tell them who you were?”

 

Harry shrugged. “I was halfway through introducing myself when you came in, Dad. You sort of told them before I got the chance to.” Harry pouted slightly, adding. “Ruined my fun, too. I was looking forward to shocking them all.”

 

Pansy suddenly started laughing. “Oh my goodness!” She managed to get out between giggles. “The school! Oh, the students! Snape has a _child_! Oh!”

 

In a matter of seconds, the other Slytherins were laughing as well, except Draco. Draco did seem amused, but he also looked broody. Harry imagined he didn’t like the fact that he’d now need to share his godfather with another person. Draco seemed like the sort who didn’t like to share _anything_. Harry shrugged the thought off; Draco would get over it.

 

“If you’re all quite done with this unseemly display…” Severus said silkily and the students sobered themselves quickly. “Epi, what are your plans for the rest of the evening?”

 

“Oh, he can come with us!” Daphne said excitedly, bouncing slightly in her seat. “We’re going to London, Sir, to go shopping. And then we’ll go to a club after, once we’ve dropped ‘Ria off at home since she’s still got a curfew and all.”

 

“I do need clothes…” Harry murmured, shifting from one foot to the other before looking up at Severus with a pleading expression. “Is it all right if I go, Dad? Please?” Due to the huge target painted on Harry Potter’s back, he never got to go anywhere. But _Epitome_ wasn’t being hunted…

 

Severus pulled a wallet out of the back pocket of his slacks and slid a credit card out of it. “Here. I was going to give this to you later tonight as a present, but you can have it now.”

 

Harry took the silver card and stared down at it in shock. It had the name _‘Epitome K. Snape’_ on it; how had Snape gotten it for him so quickly? Magic really did expedite most everything, he supposed. Pansy spoke up. “It’s a credit card, Epi.” She used the nickname Snape had been using without thought. “It works like…”

 

“I know what it is.” Harry said, softening the words with a quick smile. “I’ve got Muggle relatives on my mother’s side. Are we going to Muggle London then? Can we make a stop into Diagon Alley? I’ve not been in a while…”

 

“You need to pick up a new wand.” Severus said softly, reminding Harry that his old wand – which was tucked into his trunk at the Manor – couldn’t be seen by anyone. It would give him away. “I don’t have any galleons on hand to give you, but …”

 

“I can stop at my vault.” Harry replied easily, before freezing. His eyes went wide. “Oh…no, I can’t.” His vault would give away his identity. “Er…”

 

Severus was silent for a moment, then he said. “You may ask the goblins to take you to the Prince vault. It has a blood ward, but that won’t be an issue. No key required. Help yourself to whatever you feel you need; buy whatever you like. Including a new broom, if you want to try for the Quidditch team. And an owl, if you wish to have one.”

 

Harry felt relief flood through him. “Great. Thanks, Dad. I appreciate it.”

 

Harry had been upset to realize that he couldn’t use his Firebolt anymore. When Sirius had been cleared, they’d gotten the handle engraved so it read, _‘To Harry, Love Sirius’_ and that wasn’t something he could be seen with. It was also upsetting not to be able to use Hedwig anymore, or even bring her to Hogwarts with him, but his snowy owl was quite distinctive as well. It wasn’t worth the risk. In some ways, Harry felt like he was losing all these little pieces of himself. But he was getting new pieces as well. So now all that was left was to see what he was like once all the pieces were changed over.

 

The Slytherins seemed confused. “So…what’s wrong with your old wand and broom?” Daphne asked, seeming puzzled.

 

“An accident.” Harry said, quickly improvising based on the lie the Dursleys had told him about his parents’ deaths when he was little. “A car accident. They’re both unusable now. When are we leaving, then?”

 

“Now is fine.” Blaise answered, smiling and touching Harry’s arm lightly. “We just have to flag the Knight Bus and we can go.” He turned to smile easily at Snape. “Does Epi have a curfew?”

 

Severus seemed to consider this for a moment, then shook his head. “No, provided he does not come home at the crack of dawn and wake me up.” He finally decided. He then noticed the flower Harry was holding and frowned. “Where did you get that?”

 

Harry looked down at the rose in surprise; he’d forgotten he had it. “Oh. Er…Blaise conjured it for me. It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Harry smiled shyly at Blaise, then turned to see the stunned look on Snape’s face and paled drastically, taking a small step back and making a small noise of panic. “Oh, er, Dad…I…I was going to tell you. I swear. I just…it hadn’t come up…I…”

 

Severus seemed to recover in the blink of an eye. He smiled carefully at Harry. “It’s quite all right. I was just a little surprised.” He turned to give Blaise a cold look. “If you harm my son in any way, Mr. Zabini, I can assure you that you will _not_ live to regret it. Is that clear?”

 

“As crystal, Sir.” Blaise replied with a charming grin. “No intention of harming him, though.”

 

“Good.” He said briskly. “In that case, I shall take my leave. Epi…” He trailed off, looking uncertain.

 

But Harry had spent loads of time with the Weasleys in the last five years and he knew from them – and from watching Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon with Dudley – how this sort of thing was meant to go. He rushed over to Snape’s side and smiled up at him. “I promise I’ll stay safe and not do anything too terribly stupid.” He vowed with a grin, then he sucked in a deep breath to fortify himself and – before he could lose his nerve – hugged his father.

 

Severus seemed stunned for a moment, but quickly got past it and tentatively hugged Harry back. “Do try to keep your impulsive urges to a minimum.” He murmured quietly, pressing a quick kiss to Harry’s dark hair. Then he frowned as he pulled back, studying Harry. “Are you wearing a silver circlet?” He asked incredulously.

 

Harry flushed. “Oh, er…well…castle, you know…just…er…”

 

“We were just all sort of fooling around.” It was ‘Ria who spoke up, giving Harry a conspiratorial wink when Severus looked at Pansy, who was waving her crown saucily. “You know, acting like little kids and all. That’s why I’ve got wings on and Dray’s got a sword.”

 

“I see.” Severus looked at Harry oddly, then said quietly. “I suppose one must act like a child while one still can.” He gave Harry another brief hug. “Have fun, Epi.”

 

“Thanks, Dad.” Harry said quietly back. He glanced at the flower he was still holding, then held it out to Severus. “Could you take this back to the Manor for me and put it in my room? Please?”

 

Severus nodded and took the rose. “Of course.” He turned and nodded briefly to the other teens. “Keep an eye on him for me. I’ll not be happy if harm comes to him while he’s with you lot.” When everyone grinned and nodded back, Severus turned to Draco. “Take him to get a mobile, Draco, and give him my number. I want to be able to reach him at all times, as your parents do with you.”

 

“Of course, Sev.” Draco replied softly. “I’ll take good care of your son.”

 

Snape had an inscrutable look on his face as he studied Draco, then he said silkily. “See that you do, Draco. See that you do.”

 

Harry watched as his father left the castle, then quickly snatched the circlet off his head when ‘Ria gestured to her own head with a cheeky smile. “I, er…I didn’t really play much as a child.” He said, by way of an explanation. “It was just…”

 

“You being silly?” Pansy asked gently. When Harry blushed and nodded, she took her crown off again and looked down at it, saying. “Well, we’re all entitled to a bit of silliness, Epi. Especially when things around us are very serious.”

 

“I’d have to say finding out that you’re not an orphan, gaining a new father, moving, and knowing you’ll be attending a new school all in one day qualifies as pretty serious.” Blaise told him, touching his shoulder lightly. “None of us are going to judge you for acting carefree and silly for a little bit.”

 

Harry peeked up at Blaise from under his lashes, smiling slightly. “Thanks. I’m glad. I’d hate for you to think badly of me.”

 

“Not possible.” Blaise murmured, brushing the backs of his fingers against Harry’s cheek. “Even if I did for an instant, you’re too beautiful not to be forgiven any offense.” Harry blushed under the praise; the Slytherin boy was definitely charming.

 

“Can we go, or are you two going to make calf-eyes at each other all day?” Draco snapped and again Harry was startled by the barely-leashed fury the blonde seemed to exude. “If we’re going to stop at Gringotts and go shopping in Diagon Alley, we should head off. It’s already half-past three.”

 

They quickly placed their costume-pieces back in the closet-room. Harry was startled when Draco tugged off the black and gold tunic shirt – revealing a black, skin-tight, stretch-cotton tee-shirt. The blonde hung the tunic up and Harry was struck by how slender and petite Draco actually was. Maybe it was just that Harry himself was now four inches taller than he’d been the last time he’d seen Draco. Or maybe it was just that he was used to seeing the Slytherin in robes, which made him look bulkier than he was. Or maybe he’d just never really looked that closely at him before. Harry couldn’t say for sure. But the fact that Draco fit into a tunic designed for an eight or nine year old (even if it was tight on him and would be loose on them) was telling. Draco Malfoy was definitely small for someone their age. Harry suddenly wondered if he’d be a less-effective Seeker with his increased height; Draco was definitely the lighter, sleeker built of the two of them.

 

It wasn’t until Blaise had flagged the Knight Bus down and the huge purple monstrosity was in front of him that Harry realized he had no way to pay the fare. Not until they reached Diagon Alley and went to Gringotts, anyway. Seeing Harry’s stricken face, Blaise smiled gently and nudged him lightly with his shoulder. “Calm down, Epi. Pansy’s paying for the Knight Bus ride.”

 

Harry turned to the girl and gave her a slightly-nervous smile. “I can pay you back once we get to Gringotts, I swear.”

 

“No, Epi…I’m paying for _everyone_.” Pansy explained with a laugh. “It’s how we do things. Today, I pay for the Bus. Dray pays for dinner. Blaise handles the cover charge and drinks at the club tonight. If we do a movie, Daffy will handle that. And we rotate through who pays for what. If you keep hanging out with us, we’ll add you to the rotation.”

 

“It’s a reciprocity system.” ‘Ria flashed her dimples at him again. “You get used to it pretty fast. They also rotate through who picks the club they’re going to.” She pulled a face, looking annoyed. “I don’t get to pick, so I don’t really have to pay for anything. But that’s also because I don’t have my own credit card yet so all my stuff gets put on Daffy’s.”

 

“Why don’t you have a credit card yet?” Harry asked curiously as they settled into plush armchairs on the bus; Blaise sat on his left while ‘Ria sat down to his right. He curled up in the chair so he was facing ‘Ria and tipped his head curiously to the side. “And why don’t you get to pick?”

 

“She doesn’t get to pick because she’s too young to go to a club. She’s got a ten o’clock curfew.” Daphne explained from across the aisle. “Just ignore her when she starts in about it; she likes whinging.”

 

“He was asking me, not you!” ‘Ria cried out, looking miserable and sulky in the way only very-young teenage girls seem capable of managing. “Why do you have to stick your nose into _everything_ , Daffy? Just leave me alone!”

 

Daphne sighed, rubbing her temples and looking frustrated. “Don’t start, ‘Ria. I’m not in the mood to deal with your histrionics today and I _will_ send you home. I don’t want you scaring off Epitome with this bullshit you insist on pulling.” She gave her sister a harsh look. “I mean it. Knock it off.”

 

But ‘Ria’s bright blue eyes were full of tears and she was sniffling. “You’re so mean to me, Daffy! I don’t get it. You and Pansy both have Draco for a sweet gay-guy friend. And he never bothers with me.”

 

Harry was a bit startled by the fact that Draco was gay – and apparently all his friends knew and accepted that fact – since Harry himself hadn’t told anyone but Sirius and Remus about his preferences before today and he’d only told them the night before. And only because he’d walked in on Siri and Remus doing things no teenager should ever have to see their godfather doing, even if it _had_ been sort of hot. In a creepy, _‘I need to wash my eyes with bleach…’_ sort of way. And said-godfather had freaked out, worrying that Harry might be upset that he was gay. So Harry had explained he wasn’t upset that Siri liked men, since he had begun to suspect the year before (after his disastrous relationship with Cho) that he might like boys himself.

 

Astoria’s face was flushed as she continued ranting. “But Epi was talking to _me_ and you just had to stick your nose in it!” Her voice had risen to a miserable wail at this point and Harry felt a twist of sympathy for her; he knew how it felt to be on the outside of things like friendship and camaraderie, and he knew how much it hurt. “You just don’t want me to have a friend because you’re _mean_ and _selfish!”_

 

Daphne’s blue eyes darkened and her cheeks blossomed with angry color. “That’s it. When we reach London, you’re staying on the Bus and going home. Do you understand me?” She hissed, leaning forward towards her sister. Pansy, Draco, and Blaise were all watching silently. “I’m _not_ dealing with this today, Astoria! You need to learn to behave!”

 

“No.” Harry spoke softly, but firmly. When Daphne turned to stare at him in shock, he added. “She’s not going home. She’s staying with us.”

 

“I’m not buying her a damned thing today.” Daphne spat, angry. “I’m not having _my_ friends fork over money for the little brat either. She needs to learn to be more respectful.” She glared at her little sister and added. “She needs to remember that I do not _have_ to take her anywhere.”

 

“Then I’ll pay for everything for her.” Harry snapped back, suddenly feeling irrationally angry and protective of the young, crying girl. He let his feet drop to the floor, opened his arms, and said. “Come here, ‘Ria. It’s all right.”

 

With a miserable-sounding whimper, she quickly clambered onto Harry’s lap and buried her face in his chest, sobbing. As he stroked her back soothingly, he glared at Daphne. “She’s your sister.” His voice was low, but cool. “You have no idea how lucky you are to have her. I would have given _anything_ growing up to have a sibling to follow around or to have follow me around. I wanted someone…some piece of family…there, more than anything. You can’t imagine what it’s like not to have anyone. You should treasure her.”

 

Daphne bit her lip, tears in her own eyes, looking utterly abashed. “I’m sorry, ‘Ria.” She whispered. “You know I love you, right?”

 

‘Ria sniffled and looked up, nodding. Her face was blotchy and wet from tears. “I know. I love you too, Daffy. I just…I feel so _left out_ sometimes, because I can’t come with you and I get sent home and I can’t buy stuff for everyone and…”

 

“And you’ll be able to next year.” Pansy’s voice was soft and gentle and she gave the girl a reassuring smile. “And first trip of the summer, we’ll let you pick where to go. Promise.”

 

The girl sniffled again and nodded. “Okay.” She whispered. Then she sighed softly and snuggled against Harry’s chest before straightening back up quite suddenly. “I’m sorry!” She gasped, looking horrified. “I’ll go sit on my own chair…”

 

She started to get up, but Harry chuckled and tightened his hold on her waist. “You’re still upset.” He explained. “I can feel it in the way you’re breathing and the way you’re holding your muscles. So just settle down and relax; I don’t mind cuddling you until you feel better. I’m actually pretty big on it. Comes from not being hugged much as a child.”

 

“Is that why you were doing the whole PDPA thing?” She asked curiously. “Because I was _totally_ surprised by that!”

 

“PDPA?” Harry asked, confused. He had no idea what the girl was talking about.

 

She rested her head on his shoulder with a soft sigh before she answered. “Public Display of Parental Affection.” She explained easily. “Most teens can’t stand that sort of thing.”

 

Harry smiled and nodded. “Yeah, I guess. It’s just that I’ve always seen other people with parents to hug goodbye and fuss over them and I never got that.” He closed his eyes and just soaked up the sensation of the warm weight of a body on his lap in an entirely non-sexual way; just affection and comfort. “I guess now that I’ve got Dad, I want all of the things I’ve never had a chance to get before.” He paused, then gave ‘Ria’s waist a light squeeze. “And you never answered my question about you not having a credit card.”

 

“Oh!” She giggled. “Well, a credit card is given for our fifteenth birthday.” She explained. “Purebloods, I mean…that’s the typical gift. Fourteen is a cell phone, so I’ve finally got one of those which is cool. But I won’t get a credit card until next year.”

 

Harry blinked in surprise. “Wait, so…wait. You’re telling me that _Purebloods_ give cell phones and credit cards to their children for their birthdays?” Harry was utterly baffled. He turned to Blaise in confusion. “I feel like I’m missing something here.”

 

Blaise chuckled dryly. “We’re better than Muggles, Epi, but we’re not above taking their money. Our families frequently have business ties to the Muggle world. So we need to know how to function in it. If that means check books, then okay; that’s what our parents got at our age. Things have changed; we get credit cards now and cell phones.” He grinned. “Hell, I just got my first car. I don’t know how to _drive_ the damned thing, but I’ve got it.”

 

Harry laughed. “I can’t help you there, sorry.” He said sheepishly. “I do know how to drive a motorcycle, though.” Sirius had gotten his bike back from Hagrid and taught Harry how to ride it during the two weeks he’d spent with the man this summer.

 

Draco looked up from where he’d been studying his nails. “You know how to drive a motorcycle?” He asked, leaning forward with gleaming silver eyes. “Could you teach me? Mine just sits in the garage and Father refuses to hire someone to teach me how to ride it! I had to beg for two weeks just to be allowed to keep it after I bought it.”

 

“Oh, er…” Harry wasn’t sure what to say, but as the hopeful look on Draco’s face slid swiftly into aloof blankness, Harry hurriedly said. “Of course I can teach you. I’m not terribly good at it myself, though, so if you fall off or if I fall off…well, I’m sorry. Hopefully your bike is sturdy.”

 

“Wicked.” A dazzling smile that made Harry’s breath catch slightly flashed across Draco’s face; the blonde was truly beautiful. “If the bike breaks I’ll just buy another one. We should get you one as well.”

 

Harry laughed. “Somehow I don’t think Dad will be too pleased with the idea of me riding around on a motorcycle, Malfoy.” Harry’s voice was dry and the last name slipped from his lips without thought. He winced at the hurt look on Draco’s face and quickly continued. “Feel free to try to convince him for me, though. You’re his godson, right, Draco?”

 

“Oh, yeah.” Draco shrugged. “Sev’s been great. You’re lucky to have him as your father, you know. He spoils the hell out of me.” He flashed that dazzling smile at Harry again. “He bought my entire House Quidditch team Nimbus 2001’s when I made Seeker in my Second Year. Of course, since he’s Head of House, I had to tell everyone that Father bought them, but it was really Sev. Father couldn’t care less about Quidditch, to be honest.”

 

Harry was stunned; not only had Lucius _not_ bought Draco’s way onto the team in Second Year (though Harry hadn’t really thought he had, since Draco flew like he was born to do it), Lucius hadn’t even bought the brooms at all! No wonder Draco had been so furious when Hermione had accused him of buying his way onto the team. The brooms had been a gift from his godfather for a job well done. They were a symbol that someone was proud of him for being good at something he clearly loved. Harry could understand that; he’d have been furious, too. He felt a little twist of guilt over the way he’d treated Draco in the past. There was obviously more to the prickly Slytherin than he’d realized.

 

Since there was nothing he could do about it right then – including apologizing, since it wouldn’t make any sense – Harry just smiled softly and said. “I know; I’m _very_ lucky to have him.”

 

Chatter about school and spells and Quidditch took up the rest of the hour-long trip to London. When they arrived, Harry realized ‘Ria was sleeping in his arms and laughed softly. He looked helplessly at Daphne and grinned. “What now?” He asked quietly, not sure if he should wake her up.

 

The blonde girl looked utterly stricken. “Oh Merlin…” She whispered, her whole face crumpling. She looked like she might cry. The others looked solemn. In a soft voice, Daphne explained. “My sister has had night terrors her whole life. They come and go and most times it’s not too bad. I didn’t…I didn’t realize, but she…she must have been having them last night.” Tears filled Daphne’s eyes. “That’s why she was so snippy and emotional today. She’s always like that the day after. I should have realized…”

 

“It’s not your fault.” Harry said soothingly. Then he turned to Blaise. “Can you cast a Silencing Bubble around her head and a Featherlight Charm on her? If you can, I’ll carry her for a while and we’ll let her get some sleep. It’s not like Gringotts or wand-shopping are particularly interesting anyway.”

 

“Of course, Epi.” Blaise cast easily and Harry stood, the petite girl still in his arms.

 

They all filed off the bus and through the Leaky Cauldron. Once through the wall and inside Diagon Alley, they moved towards Gringotts. Harry got a few looks, since he was carrying an unconscious girl, but nothing like what he got as ‘ _Harry Potter’_ so he was okay with it. They reached the huge white building and went inside, immediately stepping into a queue. Daphne kept shooting him grateful looks and Harry kept trying to convey with his eyes that it was no trouble at all. He couldn’t have said why, but he’d taken a shine to the younger girl. He decided he wouldn’t mind being her _‘gay guy friend’_ as she’d phrased it on the Knight Bus.

 

When they got up to the counter, Harry smiled and said. “I need to access the Prince Vault.” The goblin’s eyes narrowed and Harry added. “My father, Severus Snape, said it wouldn’t be an issue since it’s a blood ward on the vault.”

 

The goblin nodded. “Fine. Just you, or is everyone coming?”

 

Harry glanced at the group, then shrugged carefully so as not to disrupt ‘Ria. “Everyone can come. I certainly don’t mind.”

 

He actually though it might be good for them to see tangible proof that he was actually Snape’s son. The blood ward would be the best way to do that. It had occurred to Harry during the trip to London that if he could convert the Slytherins (even just some of them) to the Light side, then perhaps their parents would follow. And even if they didn’t, each Slytherin that didn’t take the Mark was one less person he’d have to fight eventually. And Harry had a feeling that the Slytherins wouldn’t listen to him unless they firmly believed he was _‘one of them’._ This would help establish that. He hoped, anyway.

 

It took two carts for all of them and the goblin to get down there. It was a long trip, too. Ron had explained to Harry once that the older the vault, the deeper underground it was. Which didn’t make much sense to Harry since it meant that, somehow, the new vaults _pushed_ the older vaults deeper underground, but then, magic rarely made sense to Harry. He tried not to think about it too much. Once they got down there, Blaise offered to take the still-sleeping ‘Ria from Harry’s arms so he could open the vault. It was a large, blank stone wall with a rectangle of bloodstone off to one side, large enough for someone’s entire hand to fit on. The goblin drew a wicked-looking dagger from his belt and held out his hand.

 

Harry stared for a moment at the creature, then held out his left hand. One quick, shallow, painful cut later and Harry was pressing his bloody palm to the bloodstone. It glowed green, then a large portion of the wall disappeared. The stone beneath his palm grew hot; it seemed to sear his skin. He jerked away and looked down at his palm, where the wound had been cauterized shut. The panel of bloodstone – which bore no traces of Harry’s blood – disappeared as though absorbed into the stone. Harry stared at the wall, then the opening to his new family vault, then down at his palm. This had to be the most unusual birthday he’d ever had, including the one where he’d found out he was a Wizard.

 

Stepping into the vault, Harry was stunned. “Wow…” he breathed. There were piles of jewels, cabinets full of heirlooms, portraits draped with fabric to hide their occupants, and huge towers of money.

 

After spinning in a quick circle, Harry turned to his new friends. “Who wants to help me search for a money pouch big enough to hold enough money to buy me a broom, a wand, and an owl?” He grinned as the girls rushed into the room. Draco followed at a slower pace and Blaise stayed outside, with a brief nod of his head towards the girl sleeping in his arms. After about fifteen minutes, Pansy squealed.

 

“Found it!” She crowed triumphantly and Harry turned to see her holding what looked like a very-small green velvet coin purse. Harry though it might hold ten galleons, if that.

 

“Er, Pansy…” He said, hesitantly. “Don’t you think it’s…er…a bit…small?”

 

She grinned and popped open the little catch at the top, then plunged her arm in all the way up to her shoulder. Harry stared in shock as the girl’s entire arm disappeared into the still-tiny bag. “It’s got an Undetectable Extension Charm on it, Epi.” She explained, still smiling. “I’m not even touching the bottom of the bag yet. And it won’t get heavier, either.”

 

Harry smiled back. “Perfect! Thanks.” She tossed him the bag and Harry walked over to a small mountain of galleons.

 

He bit his lip, trying to figure out how much to take. What was reasonable? He’d never had access to money that wasn’t 100% his before and wasn’t sure how it worked. Suddenly Draco’s smooth drawl said from behind him. “You could take it all and Sev wouldn’t mind. You’re his son. Just grab a few handfuls and put it in the bag.” When Harry continued to hesitate, just staring at the blonde, Draco sighed and pried Harry’s fingers away from the little pouch. “Here, I’ll do it.”

 

Harry watched as those slim, elegant fingers scooped what seemed to Harry like a ridiculous amount of gold into the little bag. Draco finally stopped, seemed to think for a moment, then scooped three more handfuls in. The he clicked the coin-purse shut and held it out to Harry. “There. All done.” His tone was brisk and matter-of-fact.

 

Harry bit his lip again, then took the pouch and gave Draco a tentative smile. “Thanks…” Harry said quietly. “This whole family-thing is obviously really new to me.”

 

Draco’s lips curved and his grey eyes shone warmly. “It’s not a problem, Epi. Sev is my godfather, so we’re practically family. I’m happy to help you adjust to the world of Pureblood society.” His smile deepened and he added. “And the world of Slytherin Politics, assuming you’ll share Sev’s House. What House was your mother in?”

 

Harry swallowed hard, then decided that the truth wouldn’t serve here. It was too risky. He’d have to make sure to tell his father what lies he’d been telling so that they could keep their stories consistent. “She didn’t attend Hogwarts. She was taught at home by a tutor, like me.” He then added. “I have a feeling I’ll be in Slytherin, though.” Since he didn’t intend to argue with the Sorting Hat this time, Harry was actually positive he’d be a Slytherin. But Draco didn’t need to know that.

 

The trip back up was uneventful. With Astoria back in Harry’s arms, they made their way out of the bank and into Diagon Alley. “Ollivander’s first.” Pansy declared. “Wands always take _forever_. Then we can get your broom and your owl, though we’ll leave your owl at the shop until we’re heading home. They’ll hold it for you, don’t worry. Your broom we can shrink.”

 

And so the six of them (five walking, one asleep and carried) made their way to Ollivander’s shop. Harry wondered, as Blaise held the door for all of them, if the wand maker would somehow recognize him. He wasn’t sure. As the little bell tinkled softly somewhere in the shop, Astoria stirred in Harry’s arms. She opened her eyes and looked panicked for a moment. Blaise quickly ended the Silencing Bubble and the Featherlight Charm, both of which were disorienting to have cast on you.

 

“Feeling better?” Harry asked her as he carefully set her on her feet. “Daphne said you could probably use the sleep, so we let you rest. You missed Gringotts, but nothing else.”

 

Astoria blushed, but nodded. “Thanks. So, we’re getting you a wand now?” She glanced around Ollivander’s shop. “Wow…I haven’t been in here in years…”

 

Harry smiled slightly, then turned to stare nervously at Garrick Ollivander as the man stepped out from between the aisles. “Hello.” Came the soft, eerie voice of the Master wand maker. “How can I help you all?”

 

Harry stepped past Astoria and held out his hand. “My name is Epitome Snape.” He said, locking his green eyes on Ollivander’s disturbingly pale ones. “I need a new wand. My original wand is…” He hesitated for a moment, then said softly. “No longer usable.”

 

Ollivander’s lips curled up into a smile. “Yes, I can see that.” The Slytherins exchanged confused looks, then the wand maker said. “Your original…it was yew and phoenix feather, correct? Thirteen and a half inches, I believe…”

 

Harry was briefly confused, before he remembered the pale, slim wand Voldemort had held that night in the graveyard. His eyes widened; yew and phoenix, thirteen and a half inches…that was Tom’s wand. Harry’s lips curved upwards; Ollivander knew it was him and was telling him so, but in a way no one else would realize. He nodded slowly. “Yes, Sir. You really do remember every wand you’ve ever sold.” He remembered the man telling him that during their first meeting.

 

“Indeed, Mr. Snape. Every wand.” Ollivander shook his hand easily. “Now, let’s see about getting you another wand, shall we? Though I’d normally doubt us finding one as special, you’ve certainly managed to surprise me before, haven’t you?”

 

Harry grinned slyly. “I suppose so. And please, call me Epi. I’m not quite used to being called ‘Snape’ yet, you see.”

 

Harry remembered – quite vividly – the process of searching for a wand the first time. He had swished dozens with absolutely no effect before finally finding his holly wand. It had been a boring, exhausting process but the end result – the feeling of absolute rightness when he’d held _his_ wand for the first time – had been more than worth it. Ollivander handed him a wand – blackthorn and dragon heartstring – and Harry was struck by a sudden wave of _wrongness_ that he’d never felt before. He gave it a tentative flick and actually _felt_ as the wand fought against him.

 

Pansy shrieked as her skirt caught on fire. “Oh Salazar, fuck!” She screamed in anger and frustration as Ollivander doused her skirt, then Blaise cast a quick drying charm at her. She glared down at its ruined, burnt state. “This is so not okay!” She snarled.

 

“I’m so sorry!” Harry said, dropping the wand as though it were evil. “I don’t know what happened! It felt like the wand was fighting me! I’ll buy you a new skirt as soon as we’re done here. Whatever one you want, Pansy, I swear.”

 

Pansy sighed and nodded. “Thank you, Epi. I’m not mad at you, I swear.” She glared at her skirt in annoyance. “Just…you know…at the situation. It’s not your fault.”

 

Harry nodded and turned back to Ollivander. “Not that one, then.” The man said, looking intrigued. “I must say, I’m surprised. Though wands often refuse to respond or do not respond well to those not suited to them, they do not often react in such a negative manner. Let’s try another, shall we?”

 

“Fir and unicorn hair.” He said, passing another wand to Harry; he took it and winced, dropping it immediately, a look of revulsion on his face. “No?” Ollivander asked, raising an eyebrow.

 

Harry shook his head fervently. “Definitely not. Felt cold and slimy. Like the feeling was creeping up my arm. I don’t…no.” He shook his head again.

 

Ollivander nodded. “All right then. Another.” He turned and slipped into an aisle, returning moments later with another wand. “Indulge me, Epi.” The man said, handing over a pale wand. “Yew, phoenix feather. It is twelve inches and a bit less flexible than the other, but still…I’m curious.”

 

Harry looked at the wand, so reminiscent of Tom Riddle’s, then nodded and picked it up. It felt heavy in his hand in a way his own wand never had. He gave it a little swish – this time away from everyone present – and gasped when a chair turned to dust. It _hurt_ , deep in his chest, like the magic was being ripped from his core by force. His fingers clenched around the wand and he doubled over, letting out a helpless whimper of pain. Tears sprang to his eyes.

 

He felt soft fingers prying his fingers from the wand and then the pain eased. He looked up into Astoria’s worried blue eyes. “Epi, are you alright?” She asked, handing the wand to Ollivander and brushing her fingers frantically over his face. “Please, answer me…are you hurt?”

 

“I’m okay…” Harry rasped, surprised by how choked his voice sounded. “Really. It hurt, but I’m okay now I think.” He took a few deep breaths and straightened up, then turned to Ollivander. “Another.” He said firmly; he had to have a wand.

 

Looking hesitant, Ollivander none-the-less disappeared into the back of the shop again. After several long minutes, he returned with a box. Looking worried, he opened it and placed it on the counter. “Holly.” He said softly, and there was an odd twist to his features as he said it. “And dragon heartstring. Give it a touch then.”

 

Harry tentatively reached for the wand. He picked it up and felt nothing. Not a thing. With a sigh, he flicked it. Several dozen boxes of wands flew off their shelves and hit the floor, wringing a cry of dismay from poor Garrick. “No more!” The man cried, as he scrambled to pick up the fallen boxes. “I cannot bear to see you do more harm to my shop!”

 

Harry stood there, feeling utterly miserable. He didn’t know what to do. Daphne and Astoria had rushed around the counter and were helping the old man pick up his wands and the Gryffindor boy just stood there, wishing he knew what was wrong. “I’m sorry.” He said when Ollivander returned to the counter at last. “I don’t know why they’re reacting this way…”

 

Ollivander waved his hands dismissively. “It’s not your fault. You’re older; this happens sometimes when an older person seeks a new wand, for whatever reason. We must simply adjust the method of perusal to suit the situation.” He gestured for Harry to follow him. “Come. Run your hands along the shelves until you feel something reaching for you. Come.”

 

Harry looked at the Slytherins, who shrugged, and then Blaise gave him an encouraging smile. “Well, go on then, Epi, and do as he says. It certainly can’t hurt any.”

 

So Harry found himself walking through the aisles and aisles at the back of the shop, running his hand along the shelves. He felt the magic licking against his fingers, but it all seemed to recoil from him. So he kept walking and touching. He was followed by his little group of Slytherins and Ollivander. Finally, Harry reached the very back of the shop, where the boxes were covered in a fine layer of dust. Ollivander was beginning to look nervous. Harry hit the end of the last aisle and groaned in frustration. How could there not be a single wand in the entire shop that suited him? Was he going to have to go and see Gregorovitch to get a wand?

 

Suddenly, as Harry braced his hands on a work table that was covered in wood-shavings, he felt a tug. A sharp but utterly brilliant tug in the general vicinity of his stomach. His head snapped up and he turned to look at a wooden cabinet that was in the corner. He approached it cautiously, following the tugging sensation. He laid both hands on the door of the cabinet and shuddered. It felt like whatever was in the cabinet was caressing him. It was a dark, cool, lovely caress that touched every inch of his body all at once and he knew, he just _knew_ , that his new wand was in there.

 

“What’s in here?” Harry whispered, turning piercing green eyes on Garrick Ollivander. “Open it, please…I need _this_ wand…I just know it.”

 

Ollivander drew a ring of keys from his pocket, looking surprised. “These are commissioned wands.” He explained as he began sorting through the many keys. He glanced up to see Harry looking devastated and smiled easily. “No, no, Epi. I myself don’t make commissioned pieces very often and the few I have made were always picked up. These…well, these are from my father and grandfather’s time. Some are even older than that. They were simply never picked up.”

 

Eyes like full moons bore into Harry’s as Ollivander held up a small brass skeleton key. “I have a feeling I know which wand you need. Will you trust me?”

 

Harry nodded and stepped back so the wand maker could unlock and open the cabinet. He pulled out a long, narrow box made of dark wood. Harry’s breath caught as Garrick held it out to him. With trembling hands, he took it. As soon as he touched the box, confusion splashed across his face. He held it in his left hand and ran his right across the lid, frowning. This was what was pulling at him; he was certain of it. This was his wand. But if felt…strange.

 

“Are there two wands in this box?” Harry asked, turning baffled green eyes on Ollivander. “It feels…it feels like two but at the same time like one. Or…or like they’re connected somehow. I don’t…”

 

Ollivander was studying Harry speculatively. “You can feel that?” He asked quietly. “What else can you feel when in my shop?”

 

Harry blinked, dropping his eyes to the box again. “Magic. Everywhere. Little wisps and strong pulses and how they connect or don’t to each other.” Harry’s long, pale fingers stroked against the box’s lid. “In this box, I feel two woods and two cores and they’re all tied into each other somehow, like they’re part of each other, but it’s like they’re forming two wands even as they form one.” Harry let out a short bark of laughter and added. “That doesn’t make sense, but…”

 

“Open the box.” Garrick told him and for a moment it was as though Harry and the wand maker were alone in his shop. Like none of the Slytherins were there at all. “Go on and see your new wand.”

 

Harry raised the hinged lid and his breath caught in his throat. The wand rested on a bed of crushed, dark-blue velvet. It was the most unusual wand Harry had ever seen. Long – fourteen inches, if Harry wasn’t mistaken – and beautiful. The center wood, which made up what Harry would call the ‘main’ piece of the wand, was a light golden color. The tip was rounded; the grip-end was an unusual tear-drop shape. A second type of wood wound around the base-wand, from the tip down to the grip, in a spiral. It was the palest wood – nearly white – that Harry had ever seen and it hugged the golden wood as though it were made to do so. The harmony between the two woods was something Harry could feel down to his very bones; they were meant to be together.

 

Harry tentatively stroked his right index finger down the length of the wand, then looked up to meet Ollivander’s eyes. “It’s beautiful.” He said quietly. “I didn’t realize two wands could be blended together like this, but they feel as though they’re…”

 

When he trailed off, at a loss for the proper word, Ollivander smiled and nodded, saying sagely. “As though they were meant to be a single wand? Yes, I agree. This particular wand, Epi, has been in my family’s shop since before my Grandfather’s time.” He looked down at the wand in question and said softly. “It is wholly unique and I always hoped I would live to see the individual who could claim such a wand for their own. I cannot say that I’m entirely surprised that it would be you.”

 

“What does surprise me, young man.” Garrick continued. “Is how much you seem to sense about cores and woods and how they work together. Have you ever considered wandmaking as a career?” When Harry’s eyes widened, the old man added. “If you take the necessary NEWT classes for such a thing, I will be willing to offer you an Apprenticeship when you graduate. I believe you have a true affinity for the craft and I would delight in seeing it honed.” He paused and then added. “And if you choose this course, you may call me Garrick.”

 

Harry curled his fingers around the grip of the wand and lifted it from the box, feeling its magic spiral up his arm and through his whole body. Then he locked eyes with Ollivander and nodded. “I’ll talk to the Headmaster about what classes I’ll need, Garrick.” He said softly, but with confidence.

 

Because Harry knew, with a sudden, soul-deep certainty, that this was what he wanted to do for the rest of his life. He wanted to understand what made each wand – including this one he now held – work. What enabled each core to settle into each wood and create someone’s perfect wand. And what made each person get chosen by a wand in the first place; what characteristics of wood and core matched what sort of personality. He wanted to touch a wood and _feel_ what it wanted to become; he wanted to learn what core it hungered for and what sort of person would one day master it. He didn’t want to spend his life fighting, as he knew he was destined to do for at least a little while. He wanted to give something back, instead; he wanted to _make_ something. Something that mattered; something that was needed. Wands. He wanted to make wands.

 

And the best part was, he _could_. Harry Potter couldn’t take classes to become a wandmaker; Harry Potter was the son of Lily and James Potter and was going to defeat Voldemort, become an Auror, marry some witch, and have a bunch of perfect children. But Epitome Snape, son of a Potion’s Master, could make all the wands he wanted and no one would say anything about it.

 

Harry smiled a bit wickedly; he could do this. He could do whatever he wanted. “What is it made of?” He asked Garrick. “I’d like to know what it is I’m feeling…”

 

Ollivander’s face grew somber and he nodded. “The paler wood is elder; it’s not often worked with, since many witches and wizards are superstitious about it so they’re harder to sell. Elder-owners often have a powerful affinity with those who hold rowan wands. The second wood is rowan.”

 

Harry nodded. “I can tell the two woods work well together.” Harry admitted, giving the wand a very careful flick. It sent a stream of jewel-toned bubbles into the air and made the girls giggle. “It’s almost like they’re a single wood, they’re entwined so deeply…”

 

“Yes, I agree.” Ollivander gave Harry a slight smile. “A dual-wand could potentially be disastrous if the two halves were to war against each other, but this one seems at peace with itself.”

 

“What are the cores?” It was Blaise who spoke; he had moved to stand behind Harry and was peering over the boy’s shoulder at the wand. “It’s very beautiful, Epi.”

 

“The elder holds a piece of hair from the tail of a Thestral.” Garrick explained and Harry was surprised; he knew Garrick only used unicorn hair, phoenix feathers, and dragon heartstrings for his cores. He hadn’t realized that previous generations had used other things. “It is beyond rare, even for an older wand, but it was – as I said – a commissioned piece. I cannot fathom how they came across such a thing, or what possessed them to obtain it. In fact, I know of only one other wand with such a core and I do not know what became of it, only that Gregorovitch once possessed it. He actually wished to compare the properties of the two wands; this one and the one he possessed. I did not allow it, of course.”

 

Garrick smiled slightly, looking amused. “We wandmakers jealously guard our secrets. I would not have mentioned this wand at all at the symposium, but he insisted the wand he had was the only one with such core.” The old man shook his head. “I could not let such a boast go unanswered, of course. But then, that was many years ago and I was a much younger man and foolish as young men are.”

 

Harry nodded, not sure what to say to that. “What about the rowan?” Harry asked as he passed the box to Astoria – who took it with a smile – and carefully ran his fingers over the wand. “It feels…pure.” He admitted, shooting Garrick a curious look. “I don’t know if that makes sense or not. There’s just this sense of…lightness…about it. A sense of peace and purity. Like it’s inherently good.”

 

Garrick smiled. “That’s a true talent you have, Epi. The rowan core is rarer still; the only I’ve ever heard of with such a core, in fact.” A faint frown marred his face for a moment, then he shook his head. “I would not work with something like it myself, for concern over how it was come by, but I admit it does lend a certain strength and, as you said, purity to the wand. It is unicorn heartstring.”

 

Harry sucked in a sharp breath and the Slytherins all took a hasty step back, eyeing the wand with an odd mix of awe and revulsion. “I don’t want it!” Harry protested, holding it out to Garrick.

 

“That isn’t wise, Epi.” Garrick advised softly. “That wand reacts very violently to most people; much like the other wands in my shop reacted to you. It has chosen you and bonded; you can feel it. There is no point in refusing it. As you can sense, the wand is pure. There is no need to turn from it.” He gave Harry a very intense stare. “Really. It will cause you no ill effects to be the master of such a wand.”

 

“But…but to kill a unicorn…” Harry protested faintly. He could feel the wand reacting to his rejection; it was a grasping, needy sensation.

 

“You haven’t killed anything.” Garrick’s voice was still soft and his eyes were patient. “We do not even know how the heartstring was obtained. It is possible the unicorn was not murdered at all, but was found dead. We cannot know, especially with so much time passed.”

 

Harry bit his lip, but nodded. There was logic to what Ollivander was saying, after all. The wand was made; the unicorn was long dead. And the wand _felt_ pure. Strong and determined and almost dangerous – which Harry took to be the Thestral core – but pure and protective. It was perfectly balanced; there was a sense of harmony to the wand that Harry hadn’t realized was possible with cores so different from each other. In the end, Harry bought the wand and promised to let Ollivander know what his class schedule was going to look like.

 

When they left the shop, Harry still toying with the wand, Blaise said. “We can pick up a wrist-holster for it over at The Armory. They make the best ones.”

 

And so it was that fifteen minutes later Harry’s new wand was strapped to his right forearm, in a supple black leather holster. “Where to next?” Daphne asked, grinning. “Do you want your broom next, or shall we go pick out an owl and arrange for them to hold it for you?”

 

Harry considered, then said firmly. “Broom next. I know which one I’m getting, so that makes it easy.”

 

Entering Quality Quidditch Supplies, Harry walked boldly up to the salesman, who had glanced at their group and then sneered before dismissing them. Harry was willing to bet the man was a light Wizard, hence his disdain. Harry didn’t care; he wasn’t leaving without his broom. “I’m ready to make my purchase.” He snapped.

 

The man raked a gaze over him, then over his new friends, and said. “I’m not certain we’ve got whatever you’re looking for.”

 

Draco bristled and Harry could see the bile forming on the blonde’s tongue; he cut it off with a softly purred comment. “Well, if you’re not interested in actually _selling_ one of those ridiculously expensive Fiendfyre brooms, I suppose I’ll just be going.” Harry shrugged casually and turned away.

 

“WAIT!” The man shrieked. When Harry turned back to him and raised an eyebrow, he said. “You’re really interested in the Fiendfyre? They’re nearly impossible to handle. Too fast, or so the professionals say. Not really safe for anyone but the best.”

 

“I’m the best.” Harry’s voice was coolly superior. If there was one area of his life where he felt he had a right to be arrogant, it was flying. “I want the Fiendfyre. Now.”

 

Harry had never seen a salesperson move so fast in their life. Though, with the prospect of selling a broom that cost 1500 galleons, he supposed it wasn’t surprising. One of the Fiendfyre brooms was swiftly presented to him for approval. The broom was gorgeous. It was black, with a single red pinstripe running the length of the handle on either side. The bristles were black as well, though the very ends were the same brilliant red as the pinstripe. Harry gently caressed the broom’s handle, then mounted it. He pulled it up to hover, ignoring the salesman’s nervous protests.

 

He pulled the broom up a little higher and then leaned forward slightly, setting the broom into motion. It only took him two minutes to make a quick circuit around the store. The broom responded to the lightest touch, turning easily despite its speed. Harry knew it would be different when the broom was going top-speed rather than simply zipping around a store, but he was confident he could handle it. He dismounted to the teasing cheers and applause of the Slytherins.

 

He gave a mocking bow, grinning, then turned to smirk at the salesman. “I’ll take it.” He paused, considering the broom for a moment, then added. “I want it shipped to my home and the funds withdrawn directly from my vault.”

 

“Of course.” The salesman took the broom carefully and began boxing it up. As he wrapped the box in plain brown paper, he said. “The address? And your name and vault number?”

 

Harry frowned, then turned to Draco. “I don’t actually know Dad’s address yet. I’m assuming you do, right, Draco?”

 

Draco chuckled and rolled his eyes, but nodded. “It’s the Prince Manor, in Wiltshire.” He explained to the salesman with a smirk. “Professor Severus Snape, Potions Master Extraordinaire – perhaps you know him – _his_ residence.”

 

The man stopped, the broom in its black and red box and half-wrapped in brown paper forgotten under his hands. “Severus Snape’s residence?” He looked at Harry with wide eyes and whispered. “Your name and vault number?”

 

Harry smirked as well, crossing his arms. “Vault 124, the Prince vault.” He drawled in a passable imitation of Draco’s snide superiority. “And my name is Epitome Snape.”

 

The man paled drastically and hastily finished wrapping the broom. When he was done, he filled out a form requesting the transfer of funds from Gringotts and held it out to Harry. “Just sign this and we’re all done, Mr. Snape. And…and please, tell Master Snape that we’re happy to have the patronage of…um…his…um…”

 

“His son.” Harry said absently, staring at the form and therefore missing the look of surprised horror on the salesman’s face. He had accidentally snubbed and insulted the son of Severus Snape, Potions Master, Professor at Hogwarts, and known – and feared – Death Eater. _Not_ smart.

 

Harry was utterly focused on the small line with the words “Customer’s Signature” written under it. With a slightly-trembling hand, Harry picked up the self-inking quill. He tried to remember the proper way to form the letters of his new name, casting his mind back to primary school lessons on writing in script. He bit his lip and scrawled “ _Epitome K. Snape_ ” across the line. It was messy and slanted and only half-script since he couldn’t remember the proper way to make the uppercase ‘E’ or the uppercase ‘S’, but it was a signature and he only hoped it would suffice.

 

The salesman thanked them and promised to send the broom along as soon as possible. Harry inclined his head and gave a slightly-stilted thank you, then led the Slytherins out of the shop. As soon as they were outside, Draco turned on him with an intense curiosity. “What was with the hesitation signing your name, Epitome?”

 

Harry glared at the nosy blonde, annoyed at him for asking a question he wasn’t sure how to answer. “I’ve not had a chance to learn to sign my new name properly, that’s all.” He snapped, crossing his arms defensively over his chest. “Is that a fucking problem for you?”

 

Draco raised an eyebrow, then said coolly. “Not at all. I was merely curious.” He then turned away and began talking to Daphne about something as they walked towards Eeylop’s Owl Emporium.

 

Harry sighed, trudging along dejectedly behind the group. Astoria slowed down as well, matching his slower stride, and said softly. “You know Draco didn’t mean anything by his question, right, Epi? He’s just curious by nature. I hope he didn’t offend you.”

 

“No, he didn’t.” Harry assured her softly, giving her a rueful smile. “I’ve got a bit of an issue with people prying into my life and my business.” He admitted sheepishly, blushing slightly. “I’m a very private person and I tend to overreact to any question of a personal nature, even if it’s innocent. I can’t really help it. I’ll apologize to him while we’re in the store, I promise.”

 

Astoria nodded sagely. “Your father is a very private man as well.” She smiled and added. “Since Draco is well aware of Professor Snape’s tendency to snap at people who ask personal questions, I’m certain he’ll forgive you when you explain that you’re just like your father in that way.”

 

Everyone was soon filing into the Owl Emporium while Blaise held the door open. Harry was the last to enter. Blaise touched Harry’s elbow as he began to enter the store and Harry paused for a moment. “Yes, Blaise?” He asked with a slight smile.

 

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay, after the way that salesman reacted to us.” He explained, nudging Harry lightly with his shoulder. “You handled it pretty well, considering, but I’m guessing you aren’t used to that sort of reaction. It’s one of the hazards of being…” He stopped suddenly, seeming uncertain of how to finish his statement.

 

“Friends with people who have familial ties to the Dark Arts?” Harry suggested. When Blaise nodded, he added. “I know. I sort of expected it. Honestly, I expect I’ll get the same sort of treatment on my own merit once it’s made public that Severus Snape is my father. Never mind that I’m firmly Light, myself.”

 

“Are you really?” Blaise looked genuinely surprised, making Harry wonder if he shouldn’t have said as much so soon. “I’m neutral myself, currently.” The boy added, then surprised Harry by saying. “In fact, our whole group is neutral. A couple, like Astoria, lean even further towards Light. But, for the most part, nearly all of the Slytherin students are neutral. We’ve just got a bad rep for being Dark because our parents are usually either Dark or neutral with Dark-leanings.”

 

Harry smiled slightly. “Well, I’ll probably do my best to sway everyone further over to the Light side.” He admitted this shamelessly. Seeing the odd look Blaise was giving him, he added. “Yes, Dad knows my feelings on this. We’ve simply agreed not to talk about it unless it becomes a necessity, so please don’t worry about it. It’s all right, really.”

 

“If you say so.” Blaise murmured as they both finally stepped into the store. “Just be careful about what you say to whom, Epi. You never know who might be dangerous.”

 

Harry nodded, but said nothing. The others were casually browsing the owls, cages, perches, and treats. In a matter of only a few minutes Harry had worked his way over to where Draco was looking at a few rows of birds. He cleared his throat awkwardly, but though Draco flicked silver eyes in his direction, the blonde didn’t speak or acknowledge him. Harry sighed and turned to look at the owls in front of Draco. They were all very nice, but one in particular caught his eye. It was a large owl, so dark of a grey it was nearly black. It had a beautiful round face that made Harry think it looked nearly angelic.

 

“”Wow…” He breathed, stepping up and holding out his arm to the large owl. It studied Harry for a moment, then stepped onto his arm. It was heavier than Hedwig, but considering it was larger than her that didn’t surprise Harry much. “You’re gorgeous.” Harry told the owl softly. “I wonder what sort of owl you are…”

 

“He’s a Great Grey Barn Owl.” Draco said, reaching out to stroke the bird’s head. “And I agree. He’s a truly beautiful creature.”

 

Harry swallowed hard, then turned his head slightly to meet Draco’s eyes. “I’m sorry.” He said, softly but solemnly. “I tend to be a very private person and I’ve been known to overreact when I feel like someone is prying. I shouldn’t have snarled at you like that.”

 

Draco studied Harry for a moment, then nodded once. “All right, Epi. You’re forgiven and I’ll keep that in mind. It would seem you’re quite a bit like Severus.”

 

Harry chuckled and said dryly. “So I’ve been told.” Then he gestured to the owl. “So, shall I get this one, then? I admit to being very taken with him, but I don’t know much about the different breeds of owls. Is he aggressive? Will he be reliable? How long will he live?”

 

“I’m sorry; do I look like an owl expert?” Draco teased, raising an eyebrow. When Harry shrugged, the Slytherin rolled his eyes and said. “He doesn’t seem aggressive and of course he’ll be reliable. Most owls are, after all. And he’s one of the largest owl breeds there is, so he’ll have no trouble delivering whatever you might need to send or receive. As to lifespan…” Draco shrugged helplessly. “I’ve got no idea, really, but I’ve never heard of an owl living fewer than fifteen years so you should be all right for a while.”

 

Harry nodded and stroked his fingers over the owl’s breast. It fluffed its feathers and hooted in response, making Harry smile. “What shall I name you?” He crooned. “Beautiful bird…”

 

“Oooh, he’s gorgeous!” Pansy cried as she came upon Draco and Harry stroking the owl. “Are you getting him then, Epi? I can’t blame you; he’s _perfect!”_

 

Harry smiled and nodded and Astoria, Daphne, and Blaise all followed Pansy over to them and exclaimed over the owl’s beauty. “What are you going to name him, Epi?” Blaise asked; he was standing beside Harry and was the only one of the group who hadn’t tried to pet the bird.

 

Harry considered the owl for a few moments, trying to think of a suitable name. Hedwig’s name had come from one of his textbooks years before; he wasn’t sure which one after all this time. “Well…” He said after a long pause, looking thoughtful. “I think…I think that I’ll call him…”

 

He hesitated again, then studied the bird’s beautiful face and dark coloring again. And with a slow smile curving his full lips, Harry decided to name the bird after his ancestor. “Anathema. I think I’ll call him Anathema.”

 

“That’s a gorgeous name.” Daphne said, petting the owl again. “Where’d you come up with it?”

 

“It was one of my ancestor’s names.” Harry explained with a sheepish smile. “Anathema Prince was my great-great-uncle. I’m not certain how he’ll feel about having my owl named after him, though.”

 

As they headed towards the cashier to pay for Harry’s owl, the group laughed and chattered on about Harry’s encounter with Ana’s portrait; he happily told them about his engaging relative. They arranged to pick Harry’s new owl up at 9 p.m. and Harry also ordered a large cage, a fancy perch, and several packages of owl treats to be delivered to Prince Manor.

 

“Next order of business…food!” Pansy said laughingly after they’d left Diagon Alley – and the Leaky Cauldron – behind them. She glanced around at the group. “Anyone got a preference for type of food, or shall we just wing it?”

 

Harry started to open his mouth, then bit his lip instead. Blaise, Draco, and Astoria all noticed but it was Astoria who spoke first. “Yes, Epi? Did you want something in particular?”

 

“I’ve just always wanted to try Indian food.” Harry admitted sheepishly. “I’ve never had a chance to, but some of…some people I knew…they used to go on about vindaloos. I’ve always wanted to try one, but I don’t get into Muggle cities much, so...”

 

“I thought you said you were raised by Muggle relatives.” Daphne shared a baffled look with Pansy. “Did I misunderstand?”

 

“Oh, er…” Harry winced; they hadn’t worked out his story yet with Dumbledore and here he was already messing up. Deciding he’d just have to make up a lie and let Albus work it into the final story he said. “We were sort of isolated. And there weren’t any Indian places anywhere nearby. So…yeah. It’s okay if you guys want something different, though…”

 

“Nonsense, Epi.” Blaise said with another charming grin. “Indian it is. We’ll get you your first vindaloo and you can then spend tomorrow bemoaning the digestive distress caused by curry to your father.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

The remainder of Harry’s 16th birthday passed in a surreal sort of blur. He was fed a hot vindaloo – which brought tears to his eyes for the first few bites until he adjusted – and then dragged into half a dozen stores to pick out all sorts of clothing, shoes, etc., in addition to a cell phone. After picking up his owl at nine, the group of Slytherins took the Knight Bus back to Wiltshire to drop off Astoria and Harry’s packages (of which there were many), then got right back on and headed back to London, with Harry dressed in one of his newly-acquired outfits. Skin-tight black jeans, ankle-high dragon hide boots from a shop in Vertic Alley (a Wizarding shopping district Harry hadn’t been to before and found fascinating), and a fitted stretch-cotton tee-shirt in pale lavender with scrolling grey writing that said, “Something wicked this way comes.” across the front of it.

 

The Slytherins dragged Harry to a club full of loud, bouncing music and hundreds of scantily-clad, sweaty people (mostly teens or people in their early twenties). Until almost 2AM, Harry danced amongst total strangers, losing himself in the driving beat of the music and the anonymity of being just another teenager for once. His new friends insisted on buying him drinks in-between dances. Harry, unfortunately, wasn’t much of a drinker and so by the time he got home he was more than a little tipsy. Slipping into Prince Manor at 3AM he giggled as he held his new boots in his hand in an attempt to be quieter. He waved to his friends and watched the Knight Bus take off again before shutting the door behind himself.

 

He stumbled up the steps, still giggling. When he started down the hallway to his room, he bumped into a decorative table, rattling the vase of flowers on it. “Shhhh!!!” Harry shushed the vase loudly. “You’ll wake Daddy up!” Steadying the thing, he managed to drop his boots, which thudded loudly to the floor.

 

Giggling, Harry turned and leaned down, pressing a finger to his own lips and whispering loudly to his shoes. “You shush too!” He giggled again, scooping the boots up, and continued down the hallway. He stopped, wide-eyed, when he saw Snape standing outside the door to his new room.

 

“Uh-oh.” Harry said, before giggling so hard he had to lean against the wall to stay upright. When he finally calmed down, he asked solemnly. “Am I grounded, Daddy?”

 

Severus couldn’t help it; his lips twitched upwards into an amused smile, ruining the stern look of disapproval he’d been giving his son. Harry just looked so adorable. Wide green eyes looked guilelessly up at him from under inky black lashes. His black hair was sleek and straight, but a single section fell forward into Harry’s eyes, causing him to make a ridiculous face as he pursed his lips, crossed his eyes, and blew it back into place. His boots were held in his hands, his pants were unbuttoned, and his shirt was riding up around his narrow waist. Harry’s pale cheeks were flushed and a sweet smile curved his lips.

 

“No, you’re not grounded.” Severus admitted, reaching out and taking the boots from him. “Come on then, Epi. Let’s get you to bed before you fall over and end up sleeping in the hallway.”

 

Harry followed Severus into his room, letting the older man help him get his shirt and jeans off, though he blushed a bit to be sitting naked on a bed with Professor Snape in his room, father or not. Severus simply got him out a pair of his boxers, which he quickly scrambled into. Then Severus helped tuck Harry into the big bed that now belonged to him. By the time Severus had finished smoothing out the comforter (summer or not, the Manor was always kept at a chilly 60 degrees at night since Severus slept better in the cold), Harry was already asleep.

 

With a tender smile gracing his face, Severus leaned down and pressed a kiss to Harry’s forehead. Since the boy was asleep, he felt comfortable saying softly. “Goodnight, Epi. I love you.”

 

Then he swept out of the room, wondering what his life – and his son’s life – might have been like, had Lily not been quite so selfish. Though Severus loved her still, even after all this time and everything she’d done, he did not think her perfect. She had been wrong to keep his son from him; that had not been her choice to make. And once the Dark Lord was after them and they were in hiding, Lily ought to have at least written it all down in the event of her death. It would have been the decent thing to do. But, like most Gryffindors, Lily did not always think things through and she was often selfish, making spur-of-the-moment decisions without a care for how they’d affect other people. Closing his eyes to sleep, Severus fell into dreams of a laughing, green-eyed child snuggling into his arms and calling him Daddy; come morning, he couldn’t have said if he felt they had been pleasant dreams…or nightmares.


	4. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ta-da! More fic! This chapter is shorter than the previous one (all the chapters I've written so far are shorter than the previous one; with a word-count of nearly 16K, it's the longest so far) but they're lovely words, regardless. Comments thrill me to pieces; I love coming home to them!
> 
> In this chapter we get to see Harry struggling to hold on to what he can of his old life, while still trying to be himself. It's a hard balance to maintain, but he's determined to try! Also, there is a two week gap between the end of the previous chapter and the start of this one. You will get a recap of that time, covering any need-to-know info. Any time I jump time, you'll get a recap of necessary things. Promise.
> 
> Happy reading. ~ LS

The two weeks following Harry’s birthday were alternately stressful and lovely. The stressful aspects came in several forms. Form 1 – awkward moments with Severus Snape. These were – unfortunately – quite frequent and usually had something to do with Gryffindor House, James Potter, or anything that had occurred in the last five years of Harry’s schooling. Though they were getting along fairly well, and they were both trying very hard to get to know each other, there was a lot to get past. Harry accepted that it would take time to have a truly close bond with his father, but he was willing to work for it. He felt it would be more than worth it in the end.

 

Form 2 of stress came from Harry and Severus meeting with Albus, Sirius, and Remus to plan “Epitome’s” back-story. Every single detail and possibility was addressed. Every possible question (and several highly implausible ones) that Harry might be asked was analyzed, discussed, and planned-for accordingly. In the end, the story wasn’t all that complicated because they stuck to the truth as closely as they could. The fewer lies there were, the less-likely they would be to get caught in one. And the simpler the lies they _did_ tell were, the better they would be able to remember them.

 

But it was certainly stressful, to try to learn an entire false history in such a short amount of time. The Slytherins knew not to ask questions – since Harry had made it clear that he was a private person – but once Harry was introduced to the Order, he’d be facing an inquisition. That inquisition would only get worse once he was at Hogwarts. It was also upsetting to know that he might lose his old friends. Though he hoped they’d be willing to get to know him, he wasn’t sure how they’d handle meeting “Snape’s son,” or being friends with a Slytherin.

 

The lovely parts of those two weeks were, thankfully, more frequent than the stressful ones. One of the most enjoyable past times Harry had taken up was visiting the portrait of Eileen Prince. She loved telling Harry about her childhood and her years at Hogwarts, as well as what his father had been like as a young boy and a teenager. Harry could tell she was holding back; she did her best not to mention anything unhappy. Harry, of course, knew that her marriage had not been a pleasant one and that much of his father’s childhood had been miserable; Occlumency lessons had proven that. But it was nice to hear about the good things, so he didn’t bring up the darkness either.

 

Another enjoyable aspect was spending time with the Slytherins. He went out with them – shopping (though not on the same scale as that first day), clubbing, and just hanging out – nearly every day. It was quite fun and he was becoming very fond of all of them. Blaise continued to flirt with Harry and Harry found he was getting much better at flirting back. It was fun and harmless and for the first time Harry felt like someone actually liked _him_ rather than his name, which was entirely lovely in-and-of-itself.

 

Draco was turning out to be more fun to be around than Harry had anticipated as well. Harry had been trying to teach the blonde to ride his motorcycle, mostly unsuccessfully. The falling was getting a bit tiresome, but the laughter it brought (despite the scrapes and bruises and the utter embarrassment of having to ask Severus to heal them at least four times a week) was more than worth it. The time they spent alone together – either with the motorcycle, flying brooms, or just talking about nothing in particular – was some of the best. Harry discovered that Draco was sweet, witty (if bitingly sarcastic at times), and very fond of animals. It was only when they were around the other Slytherins that Harry still wanted to kick the blonde in the shin. Around the others, Draco became much colder and angrier. He often snapped and snarled at Harry for the littlest things. Harry wanted to ask why, but couldn’t bring himself to ruin their one-on-one time with such a question.

 

For Severus, the best moment came sometime in the dark hours between August 15th and 16th. Harry awoke screaming from a nightmare to see Severus slam into the room, wand drawn and looking ready to slay the Dark Lord himself if it was required. When Severus saw him, sitting amongst tangled sheets and sobbing, his whole body trembling, Harry braced himself for snarky words and scorn that never came.

 

Instead, Severus crawled into Harry’s bed and pulled his teenage son into his arms, making soft and soothing noises. When Harry couldn’t stop sobbing, clinging desperately to the warmth and comfort of his father, Severus began to sing in a soft, velvety voice. “Baby-mine, don’t you cry. Baby-mine, dry your eyes. Lay your head close to my heart, never to part, baby of mine.”

 

Harry curled closer to Severus, soaking up the feeling of being wrapped in strong arms, safe and secure and loved. He closed his eyes, his breath coming in and out in trembling waves, and listened to the deep, soothing purr of his father’s voice. “Little one, when you play, don’t you mind what they say. Let those eyes sparkle and shine, never a tear, baby of mine.”

 

Severus was surprised to find he didn’t feel silly singing what was the only lullaby he knew the words to, holding Harry close to his heart. He felt Harry’s head grow heavy on his chest and knew his son had fallen back to sleep, but couldn’t bring himself to leave. So instead he continued to hold the child he should have always known, still singing softly. “If they knew sweet little you, they'd end up loving you too. All those same people who scold you; what they'd give just for the right to hold you.”

 

Severus pressed a soft kiss to Harry’s dark hair then resumed his singing, knowing he would never find anything that made him feel as peaceful and content as this did. “From your head down to your toes, you're not much, goodness knows. But you're so precious to me, sweet as can be, baby of mine.”

  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Friday, August 16th dawned hot and sticky, though inside the Manor it was cool and pleasant. Harry sighed softly just before waking up, his eyelashes fluttering open to reveal sleepy green eyes. He was startled to realize he was being held securely in strong arms. He froze, then moved carefully to see whose chest his head was resting on. Sitting half-propped-up on his left hand, Harry stared down into the sleeping face of Severus Snape. Swimming to the surface of his memories was the feeling of being safe and warm and loved amidst the terror of a nightmare about the graveyard a year before. He recalled – in the faded, distant way one recalls a dream upon waking – the deep, rumbling purr of his father’s voice singing to him.

 

Suddenly Snape’s dark eyes opened and the two of them just stared at each other for several long, silent moments. Then Harry blushed slightly, lowered his eyes, and whispered. “Thank you for staying with me last night. I…I think it helped. Normally I can’t go back to sleep after a nightmare.”

 

Severus’s blank face softened into a tender smile as he reached up and brushed Harry’s hair back from his face. “That’s what fathers are for.” Snape pushed himself up to sit as Harry moved backwards so he wasn’t lying on Severus anymore. “There is no need to thank me.”

 

That deep voice resonated through Harry, reminding him of the fact that his father had not only held him through the night like he was a small child, but had sung to him as well. “Yeah, I know, but…thank you anyway.” Then, feeling much closer to Snape after the night before, Harry threw himself forward and hugged his father, whispering. “No one’s ever held me after a nightmare before. It…it meant a lot to me to have you here.”

 

Severus closed his eyes, wrapping his arms tightly around his son’s slender form and inhaling deeply of the scent of Harry’s hair. It smelled like crisp green apples from the shampoo Harry preferred. He gave Harry’s waist a light squeeze, pressed a kiss to that sweet-smelling hair, and told him. “We’re going to introduce you to the Order today, Epi. Are you ready for that?”

 

Harry sighed, resting the side of his face against Snape’s shoulder. “I suppose I’m about as ready as I’ll ever be, but I’m completely terrified, too.” He admitted. “What if they hate me?”

 

“Then you will win them over with your charm and sweetness.” Severus drawled with only a faint hint of sarcasm, pinching Harry’s side lightly and making the boy yelp and pull back to mock-glare at him. “Now cease sulking and worrying and get dressed. It will be best if we’re there first.”

 

“Child abuse!” Harry snarked, shooting his father another mock-glare. “I’m telling Albus that you’re mean and abusive, Dad. What if my skin bruises? I’m so bloody _pale_ now!”

 

“If you bruise then I’ll give you a salve.” Severus dead-panned, standing and heading out of the room, calling over his shoulder. “Do try to wear something suitably appropriate for meeting the Order for the first time, Epi. Remember that though you know them, this will be their first impression of you.”

 

Harry nodded, though his father wasn’t looking and couldn’t see it, and called back. “So no swear-words on my shirt and no leather shorts?”

 

Severus’s deep, rich laughter echoed back up the hallway at him and Harry couldn’t help smiling as he got dressed for the day.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Harry ended up wearing a pair of black leather trousers, rather than the shorts he had joked about. He had on a pair of chunky black leather boots that came to his knees and had metal buckles over the laces that were shaped like bats. His shirt actually did have a swear-word on it. But because it was on the back, and Severus went through the Floo first, he got away with wearing it. Harry did, however, get an exasperated look and a stern admonishment from his father when Sirius began laughing hysterically over the words. The shirt was bubblegum pink and in large, flowing, black letters on the front read, _“Kindness is contagious.”_ On the back, in smaller block print it read, _“So get the fuck away from me.”_

Harry had smiled charmingly, said Moody would likely appreciate it, and promised he’d keep his back turned away from Molly at all times so she wouldn’t see. Severus’s response had been cold. “I ought to make you Floo home and change, Epi. You are old enough to know better.”

 

Harry had just grinned back, because he could see the amusement in his father’s eyes. “True, but I didn’t have parents to teach me manners.” Then he pouted and gave Severus puppy-dog eyes and pleaded in a childish voice. “Please don’t be mad at me, Daddy. I swear I’ll be good from now on!”

 

Much to the surprise of Sirius (and the amusement of Albus and Remus), Severus had chuckled and ruffled Harry’s hair. “Tell me, Epitome, why don’t I believe you?”

 

Ducking away from his father’s hand, laughing as well, Harry shrugged. “No idea, Dad.” He wiggled his eyebrows and added. “Maybe it’s because I’m friends with Slytherins?”

 

After hugging Remus, Sirius, and Albus in greeting, Harry sat in the kitchen with his back in a corner. He was sitting there partly to hide the back of his shirt for the moment and partly so he wouldn’t be snuck up on by anyone. He pulled a small mirror out of his pocket, double-checking his appearance. He had on black eyeliner that Astoria had cheerfully declared made him look _‘_ _terribly sexy’_ and which Pansy had shown him how to properly apply; thankfully it wasn’t smudged. He’d been letting his hair grow and Blaise had been kind enough to help it along with a spell Daphne knew to make it grow faster. It was now to his shoulders and he was keeping it pulled back in a low ponytail. He wanted it _really_ long, though he couldn’t have said why. He just really liked the fact that, not only was it neat and manageable, it was such a gorgeous color with its iridescent sheen to the black.

 

Tonks was the first one to come in and see him and she was clearly confused. Severus was off talking to Albus in one of the many sitting rooms and Remus and Sirius were fiddling around with breakfast and drinks on the other side of the kitchen. She stared at him for a moment, her hair a bright, electric blue and pulled into two long pigtails. “Wotcher.” She said it carefully, but with a friendly smile. “I’m Auror Tonks; who are you?”

 

Harry grinned and shook the hand she held out. “I’m not really supposed to say.” He admitted after letting go of her hand. She sat down on the opposite side of the table from him and he added. “Albus is going to introduce me during the meeting and it’s supposed to be a surprise. You can call me Epi, though.”

 

“A man of mystery, huh?” She grinned and called out to Sirius. “Hey, cousin! Who’s the pretty boy sitting at your table?”

 

“None of your business, little girl!” Sirius called back, shooting her a charming grin over his shoulder. “I’m too old to be getting into trouble with the Headmaster so you’ll just have to wait, won’t you?”

 

“Awww, you’re no fun!” Tonks turned back to Harry and added. “He’s actually a lot of fun, to be fair, but when Dumbledore says something it’s pretty much law and even Sirius respects it.” She thought for a moment, then added. “Most days, anyway.”

 

Remus rolled his eyes as he set a glass of pumpkin juice in front of Tonks, along with a plate containing eggs, bacon, toast, and kippers. “What would you like, Epi?”

 

Harry considered his options for a moment, then said. “I don’t suppose you’ve got marmite, do you? Tea and toast with marmite would be lovely.”

 

“Actually, we _do_ have marmite.” Remus summoned the jar over, along with a plate of toast and everything for tea. “I remembered how much you like it and made sure to have it for you. I know you don’t get to have it very often.”

 

Remus walked back over to Sirius to finish filling platters with eggs, bacon, sausage, kippers, toast, and other things. Harry spread a slice of toast with a thin layer of marmite, bit into it, and couldn’t help but moan softly. “Merlin, I miss this stuff! Dad doesn’t keep it in his house, which sucks, and it was hard to find growing up.” Harry grinned at Tonks and added. “Remus is the best godfather in the world. He used to bring me jars of the stuff when he’d come and visit me.”

 

Harry watched Tonks’ eyes widen and hid his smirk behind his teacup; first piece of the backstory delivered successfully. “So…you’re an Auror, huh? I’m surprised they let you guys have blue hair. I can’t imagine the astynomikos being so…informal.”

 

Tonks stared at him, her mouth open in shock, a forkful of scrambled eggs halfway to her mouth. “Did you just say _astynomikos_?” When Harry nodded, she frowned. “You don’t look Greek.”

 

“I’m not.” Harry said simply. “Well, not fully, anyway. I don’t even speak it. But I was raised in the Mediterranean and there are some things you can’t help picking up.” He grinned and took another bite of his marmite-and-toast. “Like the fact that they’d not allow blue hair.”

 

Suddenly Tonks morphed her hair to a deep green, then a startlingly bright shade of day-glow orange, then back to electric blue. “I’m a Metamorphmagus.” She explained while Harry forced himself to look awed and impressed. “So for stuff where I need to look professional I just go brown or black or blonde or something.”

 

“What’s your natural hair color?” Harry asked, utterly curious. He’d always wanted to ask Tonks that but it had never come up. “Do you even know? I mean, since technically it’s _all_ natural. For you, anyway.”

 

“That’s an interesting way of looking at it.” Tonks said, resuming eating while she spoke. “Actually, it’s naturally brown, like my da. Mum’s got black hair. I’ve got her grey eyes, though, instead of Da’s brown ones.” She smiled at him and added. “First change I ever made was at just a few minutes old, turning my eyes brown to match Da’s.”

 

“That’s wicked.” Harry praised, finishing his breakfast and standing to carry his plate and teacup over to the sink. He heard a snort from Tonks, followed by muffled laughter, and grinned. “Noticed my shirt, did you?”

 

“I noticed it too, boy.” Came a gruff – but highly-amused – voice from behind him. Harry turned around to face Moody and the man read the front of his shirt before chuffing out a wheezy-sounding laugh. “I like that. Who do you belong to?”

 

“None of your damned business, you crazy old man.” Harry retorted, grinning madly. Tonks was laughing so hard she was literally in tears at this point, her head resting on the table where she’d pushed her plate out of the way. “You’ll find out when Albus introduces me and not a second sooner.”

 

Moody laughed again, shaking his head as his magical eye went crazy, as usual. “I like you already, boy…never trust anyone, I always say. Constant vigilance. I’m Alastor Moody.” He held out the hand not holding his walking stick.

 

Harry smirked and raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest. “Now why would I want to shake hands with a creepy bugger like you?” Then he added. “Nice to meet you though, Moody.”

 

Alastor chuckled again and thumped his way over to the table, sitting in the corner seat Harry had been in before. “Got a name, boy?”

 

“Epi.” Harry said simply, moving to sit beside Alastor since he still wanted his back as much to the wall as possible. “And you’ll get nothing more than that until Albus sees fit to introduce me.”

 

From that point on, chaos erupted; the Weasleys had arrived. Molly ushered Sirius and Remus over to the table, taking over serving the food that was mostly finished at that point, and Arthur began speaking with Remus. Fred and George immediately started talking to Sirius about their latest project while Ron, Hermione, and Ginny all sat down by Tonks, chatting happily. Bill sat at the end of the table, on the other side of Moody, and the two began a discussion about Curse Breakers versus Aurors. No one noticed him for the moment and Harry was perfectly okay with that.

 

Neville’s grandmother came in (though Neville wasn’t with her), followed by Kingsley Shacklebolt and Minerva McGonagall. Mundungus Fletcher slunk in a few minutes later and immediately began stuffing his mouth with food. Harry wrinkled his nose in disgust; he’d never liked Dung much. At least as Epi he wouldn’t have to pretend to like the man.

 

Hagrid came in and squeezed onto a bench just before Albus and Severus re-entered the room. Albus sat at the head of table, across from Bill down the entire length, and Severus sat down at the far end of the table as well, beside the Headmaster. Just as Albus cleared his throat – presumably to start the meeting – Fleur Delacour rushed in, looking frazzled.

 

“Ah, pardonnez-moi, Proviseur Dumbledore. ” Fleur’s voice was low and breathless as she swiftly took one of the only remaining empty seats, which was between Bill and Tonks, right at the corner of the long wooden table. “I did not mean to be so very late.”

 

“It’s quite alright, Fleur.” He assured her, blue eyes twinkling. “I hadn’t started yet. Now that everyone is present, I have several things to tell everyone. The first…”

 

“Albus.” Molly’s voice interrupted him with a frown as she sat beside her husband, having finished levitating all of the food, drinks, and place settings onto the table; people were serving themselves and happily digging in. One of the best things about Order meetings was the food. “Shouldn’t the children leave the table before you begin? Perhaps they can go and find Harry.”

 

“Where _is_ Harry?” Hermione asked, frowning up the table at Sirius, who purposefully avoided her gaze by staring at his hands. “Normally he comes and greets us first-thing. I want to give him his birthday present, since his party was cancelled.”

 

Ron and Ginny nodded and Ron added. “And ask him why it was cancelled. He was really looking forward to it, I thought. First real party he’d have and all.”

 

Albus nodded, looking solemn despite his perpetually-twinkling eyes. “The reason I am allowing the students to remain is because part of what I must say involves Harry. Unfortunately, he is no longer in residence here.” Seeing the panic on some people’s faces, he continued quickly. “He hasn’t come to any harm, I assure you. He has merely been sent away for training. That is why his party was cancelled; he left very early the morning of his birthday.”

 

“So we won’t get to see him until school starts?” Hermione was still frowning, not looking pleased.

 

“No, Hermione. You will not be seeing Harry for considerably longer than that.” Harry cringed inwardly at the looks of shock and hurt and confusion on everyone’s faces, but he kept his expression carefully blank so as not to give anything away. “Harry will not return to Hogwarts in September or, indeed, all year. He is not expected to return at all, in fact. He will be training in secret, outside of Britain, for the next two years.”

 

Molly rounded on Sirius with a look of absolute fury. “How dare you allow this, Sirius Orion Black! Harry is still just a boy; he should be at Hogwarts, not off training somewhere! What were you _thinking?_ I will _never_ forgive you for this!”

 

“It wasn’t my choice.” Sirius told her softly, looking solemn but not angry. “Harry made the decision himself, before I became his guardian. The only permission needed was from his Muggle relatives and you know they don’t care what Harry’s doing so long as he isn’t near them.”

 

Molly rounded on Albus. “How dare you force that poor boy into something like this! He’s a _child_ , Albus; just a _child!_ He should be with his friends and people who love him, at school! He should…”

 

“Be allowed a say in something that so directly affects his life.” McGonagall’s voice surprised Harry. She looked disapproving, but her words contradicted the expression. “He has always been told where to go and what to do. He has often been placed into situations beyond his control, without the proper training to handle them. I should daresay Mr. Potter was not only eager but also quite determined to have this training.”

 

“Indeed, Minerva.” Albus looked weary now, though his eyes were as bright as ever. “Harry was determined that, when the time comes, he be as prepared as possible to face Voldemort and win.” Seeing Molly open her mouth, Albus raised a hand to silence her. “No, Molly. Everyone present is aware that Harry is destined to be our salvation. Unfair though it is to place such a burden on one so young, that is how things are. He wished to be trained and I could not deny him such a reasonable request. Harry also hopes that Voldemort will turn his eyes away from Hogwarts if he does not reside there.”

 

There were murmurs around the table as everyone absorbed the Headmaster’s words. Albus allowed it, letting everything sink in for a few minutes. When the whispers finally stopped, Albus spoke quietly but firmly. “This decision is not up for discussion. It has been made. Harry has left.” Then he turned to Ron and explained what Harry had asked him to. “Ron, Harry requested that you be allowed to use his Firebolt while he is gone.”

 

Ron’s eyes grew wide as saucers. “What?” He asked, completely stunned. His best friend was gone, without even a goodbye, and had left him his Firebolt…it was a lot to take in.

 

“His only condition was that you keep Hedwig as well. He suggested perhaps your sister might have your owl since you will now have Hedwig.” Albus told him gently. “Harry trusts you to care for Hedwig just as he would, Ronald.”

 

“Yeah. Yeah, no, of course.” Ron said, nodding slowly. “I just…why didn’t he say goodbye? Or send us a letter or something? Why just…leave?” The hurt showed on Ron’s face and it was echoed in the faces of several others, especially Hermione.

 

“You must understand that Harry is not safe while traveling. It was best for everyone if no one knew he was leaving until he had already gone.” Dumbledore’s voice was tinged with remorse. “Harry very much wished to say goodbye to everyone and to explain, but it wasn’t safe. Just as it is not safe for him to send letters right now. I can, however, pass verbal messages on to him.”

 

Hermione finally looked up from where she’d been staring intently at the table and anguish and fury were warring for dominance on her face. Her chocolate-brown eyes were filled with tears and her voice was low and pain-filled when she spoke. “You tell him…” She swallowed hard, tears spilling from her eyes, and continued harshly. “You tell Harry that I’m _furious_ with him! You tell him how _dare_ he make this decision all by himself! Tell him…tell him I _hate_ him right now for hurting us this way!” She sobbed softly and Ron slipped an arm around her waist, hugging her gently. In a quiet, pained voice she added. “And you tell him that if anything happens to him while he’s away from us, I’ll never forgive him. He’d better come back healthy and strong.”

 

Albus looked at her with compassion and sympathy shining from his eyes. “I shall tell him, Hermione, and I personally assure you that Harry is safe where he is. Safer, in fact, than he has ever been. And while he misses you all very much, he is doing what he feels is best. For you, for himself, and for the Wizarding World at large.”

 

“Yeah, well, tell him I’m bloody-well pissed he made Hermione cry.” Ron said, flushing red when Molly gave him an angry glare for his language. “And tell him I’ll take good care of Hedwig and thanks for letting me use his broom. And tell him when he comes back he’d better teach me all the cool stuff he’s learned or I’ll never speak to him again.”

 

Albus nodded. “Of course, Ron. I’m certain Harry will happily show you everything he’ll have learned upon his return.” He turned to Molly. “Is there anything you’d like to tell him, Molly?”

 

Molly nodded, wiping her eyes with Arthur’s handkerchief. “Tell him that I love him and I wish he had spoken to us before he made such a huge decision all alone.”

 

Molly sniffled again and Harry felt his throat getting tight and tears burning the backs of his eyes; he wasn’t sure how he was going to keep from crying but he knew he had to. “And Albus, tell him I’ll miss him and I don’t like when my children are so far away. Tell him to be safe.”

 

Albus placed his hand gently on top of Molly’s (as she was seated beside him, across from Severus) and squeezed lightly. “I will tell him, Molly. But you must know that he loves you as well and that it pains him greatly to be away from you. Please do not judge him too harshly; he is only trying to do the right thing.”

 

There were a few moments of silence, during which several people sniffled and dabbed at tears, then Albus cleared his throat. “The second thing I must tell you all is that we have chosen our new Defense professor for the year. I am pleased to say that Remus has managed to get in touch with Ardeth Bay, who has agreed to teach for the year since his previous post has ended.”

 

“What’s Ardeth been doing all these years anyway?” Moody grumbled from beside Harry, who had schooled his face into the stunned – but happy – expression he’d been practicing for a week, precisely for this moment. “Haven’t heard a peep from him in almost a decade.”

 

“Ardeth has been very busy, especially these last five years. That his old post ended so abruptly, allowing him to come and teach at Hogwarts, is fortuitous indeed.” Albus intoned, a small smile curving his lips. “I am certain he will be a wonderful teacher.”

 

“He is.” Harry said, startling everyone. People turned to stare at him, many noticing him for the first time and clearly trying to place him. Clearing his throat, Harry added. “Ardeth has spent the past five years as my kathigitis.” Seeing several people look confused, Harry wrinkled his nose up and added. “It means…tutor, I suppose. Master, but in a teaching sense. I don’t…there’s not really a precise word for it in English; that’s why I used the Greek.”

 

“And who are you?” It was Bill who asked the question, studying Harry’s new face with an intensity that disturbed him. “You look slightly familiar…”

 

Harry flushed but was rescued by Albus. “He is the third thing I wanted to inform you all about.” The Headmaster was grinning widely. “Ardeth has indeed been his tutor for the last five years and the fact that he will now be attending Hogwarts – thus ending Ardeth’s job with him – is part of why Ardeth has agreed to teach for us.”

 

“Yeah, but who is he?” Ron asked, peering across the table at Harry.

 

“Severus, if you would explain?” Albus asked.

 

Snape inclined his head and stood, waiting until all attention was on him before he spoke. “Many years ago, I found myself in the company of a lovely young Greek witch. She came to England with me for a brief time, but due to…unfortunate circumstances…left again very quickly. I did not see her again.” Severus turned and held out his hand.

 

Harry rose from his seat, slipped around Moody, Bill, and Fleur, then walked over to stand beside his father, taking the older man’s hand and receiving a supportive squeeze. He kept his head high and his chin in the air, determined not to let anyone’s reaction bother him at all. “I was recently informed about the existence of a child. A teenager, now.”

 

Harry cleared his throat awkwardly, but gave the group a tentative smile. “My name until very recently was Epitome Kearn Briars. Now, it is Epitome Kearn Snape.” He glanced down briefly, then looked back up and added. “My mother’s name was Primrose Katagalas until she married my stepfather. He was an American Wizard named Charles Briars. I didn’t know he was my stepfather until recently. Everyone assumed he was my father.”

 

Remus smiled at Harry and spoke. “Epi is my godson; I met Prim while she was in England and spent some time with her in Greece shortly after Epi was conceived and again just after he was born. She didn’t tell me he was Severus’ son, or I would have informed everyone. Perhaps not right away, but after Charles and Prim’s death, most definitely.” He glanced at Albus, then around the table, and added. “I’ve been visiting Epi since he was a child, but his mother did not want anyone knowing about him. That’s why he didn’t attend school.”

 

“Prim was unaware of my defection to the Light.” Severus told the Order with quiet dignity. “She did not want our son raised by a Death Eater. If not for an accident, I would never even have known of Epi’s existence. But I am thrilled to have my son with me.”

 

Harry grinned up at Severus and released his hand, then nudged him lightly in the side, earning him a raised eyebrow and a faint smirk. “Awww, Dad, you’ll make me blush.” Harry drawled teasingly, earning chuckles from a few of the people around them. Turning back to everyone he added. “I know it’s kind of a lot to take in. I’m still adjusting myself, really. I’ve thought I was an orphan since I was six years old. I’d really like to get a chance to know everyone here and to go to Hogwarts. I’ve even asked Albus if I can have a public Sorting rather than a private one, since it’s such a big part of attending Hogwarts.”

 

There was sympathy being directed his way now and curiosity; Harry could practically feel it. Finally, Albus said quietly. “Now, Epi, that you have been introduced, perhaps you and the other students would like to adjourn to the parlor? I believe your godfather showed you where it was.”

 

Harry nodded. Deciding it was best to begin as he meant to go on, Harry turned and gave Severus a very brief hug; Severus flushed a little, but returned the embrace. Molly gave him a motherly smile when the embrace ended. Harry then moved over to Remus and hugged him as well, saying loudly enough for everyone to hear. “Thanks for helping me find Dad and tell him and everything.” He locked eyes with Sirius over Remus’s shoulder and said. “You’ve been the best godfather anyone could ask for.” And he knew Sirius understood Harry meant _him_ from the soft smile on his lips.

 

Ron, Hermione, and Ginny rose from their seats and followed Harry out of the kitchen, up the stairs, and into the parlor Albus had mentioned. Harry’s Firebolt was leaning in one corner, with Hedwig asleep on her perch beside it. Harry immediately sprawled across the couch. He rested his shoulders and back against one arm of the sofa, pulled one leg up so it was stretched down the length of the cushions, and let his other knee bend so his foot was on the floor. Ginny exchanged looks with her brother and Hermione, then sat in a large armchair near Harry. Ron and Hermione cautiously sat on the loveseat across from him. Harry arched an eyebrow – an expression he knew made him look even more like Severus – and waited.

 

“Your...um…shirt is interesting.” Ginny said after a moment, earning her a snort from Ron. She gave her brother a cross look, then added. “I don’t think Mum noticed, but you should be careful she doesn’t. She won’t care whose kid you are. She’ll still yell at you.”

 

Harry chuckled. “Yes, I’ve been warned about that. Sirius, Tonks, and that Moody fellow all liked it, though, so I think it accomplished its purpose.” He smiled easily at her. “I’m sure that’s not what you’d like to be talking to me about, though, so let’s just get this whole bloody inquisition over with, all right? I don’t like dancing around things.”

 

Just as Hermione opened her mouth to say something, Hedwig woke up and flew over to Harry. He held up his arm and she landed on it, gripping gently with her talons. “Hello, pretty girl.” Harry purred at her, stroking her breast. “It’s nice to see you again.”

 

“You’ve been here before?” Hermione asked suspiciously. “Why? What were you doing here? When did you meet Hedwig?”

 

Harry rolled his eyes and gave his arm a light bounce, sending Hedwig into flight. She went back to her perch, eyed them all for a moment, then went back to sleep. “Remus is my godfather, remember? Since he’s been living here, this is where I come to see him. Hedwig’s been sort of lonely since Potter left, so she took something of a shine to me.”

 

“Did you meet Harry?” Ron asked, a frown marring his forehead. “How long have you been here, anyway, Snape?”

 

Harry smirked. “I arrived in the middle of the night, just prior to Potter leaving. I met him only very briefly. Albus came to discuss with Remus who my true father might be; when he left, he took Potter with him.” Harry shrugged and added. “Seemed like a nice-enough bloke. Also, don’t call me ‘ _Snape’_ if you’re going to sneer it like that. Epitome is fine, or Epi.”

 

“So…you were raised in Greece?” Hermione questioned, tilting her head curiously to the side. “I’ve been to visit, a few summers ago. Athens was so lovely. Say something in Greek.”

 

Harry stared at her for several long moments, then said dryly. “I know about thirty words in Greek, lady, and none of them are particularly useful. I was raised on a small island in the Mediterranean, off the coast of Greece, not _in_ Greece. I’ve never been to Athens. In fact, until a couple of weeks ago, I’d never even left Diematos.”

 

“Diematos…” Hermione frowned, looking like she was thinking hard. “That means…fear?”

 

Harry shrugged. “I suppose it does. I didn’t name the island, I just lived on it.”

 

“Hmmm.” Hermione nodded slowly. “Well, my name is Hermione Granger. This is Ron Weasley and his sister, Ginny. Ginny’s going into her Fifth Year at Hogwarts and Ron and I are beginning our Sixth.”

 

“What Houses are you in?” Harry asked, letting his head fall back over the arm of the chair and closing his eyes. “I’ll be a Sixth Year as well, by the way. My birthday is the 19th.” Everyone had agreed that Epitome sharing a birthday with Harry Potter was a touch too suspicious. Plus, this way, he could still have some sort of birthday celebration. Even if it wasn’t quite what had been originally planned.

 

Ron narrowed his eyes. “We’re all in Gryffindor.” The way he said it, he clearly expected a snarky comment about his House.

 

“Like Remus, then.” Harry said with a nod, earning him a smile from Hermione. “I don’t know where I’ll be, really. My friends think Slytherin. Dad says he won’t be surprised no matter where I end up.”

 

Ginny chuckled. “Merlin, it was weird seeing Snape hug someone! I don’t think I’ve _ever_ seen him be that nice to anyone.”

 

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Well, no, of course not. I mean, he’s got a reputation as a Death Eater to uphold and all. But it’s different since Epitome is his son, I’m sure.”

 

Harry merely nodded, then waited for the next question. “So, are you doing anything for your birthday then?” Ron asked, clearly trying to push past the uncomfortable silence. Harry wasn’t sure if Ron liked him or not so far, but he figured his best friend didn’t want to risk pissing off Snape by being rude to his son.

 

“Dad and I will have a dinner, just the two of us, on the 19th. I’m spending tomorrow with some of my friends in Muggle London, shopping and clubbing.” Harry grinned and added. “Not that that’s much different than any other day; we spend a lot of time there.”

 

“Wow, you’re so lucky!” Ginny groused, looking jealous. “Mum doesn’t let us out of her sight unless it’s someplace like here. We’d never be allowed to go traipsing around London.”

 

Harry considered the pros and cons for about fifteen seconds before he made his decision; he’d always been one to just jump in, after all. “Not even for a birthday celebration? To make friends with a student new to Hogwarts?”

 

Ginny looked hopeful for a moment, then pouted. “No. She might okay us spending the day with you, but she’d want us home by 9 o’clock. Not really conducive to clubbing.”

 

Harry frowned, still thinking. He heard the door open behind him and knew his father had just stepped into the room from the soft footsteps and rustling robes. Without turning around Harry said. “Dad, could I have some overnight guests tomorrow night? For my birthday celebration, I mean.” He tipped his head further back and opened his eyes, looking at his father upside-down. “These guys can’t come unless they can spend the night. And then ‘Ria can come, too, since her curfew won’t matter. Please?”

 

Severus studied Harry for a moment, then sighed in a much-put-upon way. “I suppose, Epi, if that’s what you’d like to do. I will speak with Molly.” He turned to Hermione. “Miss Granger. See if you can contact Miss Lovegood as well. She would get along well with my son, I believe, and I do not find her too objectionable of a companion for Epi.” He glanced at Harry and saw him mouth a name, but didn’t react; instead, he paused for a moment as though thinking, then added. “I shall also speak with Augusta, to see if Mr. Longbottom would like to attend.”

 

Harry grinned, then sat up to smirk at his new friends. “So, I’ll see you lot tomorrow then, yeah?” When they all nodded dazedly, Harry popped off the sofa and walked out of the room past Severus, saying cheerfully. “I’m going to go see Remus for a few minutes while you work things out with parents and whatnot. Come get me when you’re ready to leave.”

 

None of the Gryffindors quite knew what to make of Epitome Kearn Snape, but one thing was clear. Harry or no Harry, it was going to be an interesting year.


	5. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of my favorite chapters, for several reasons. To avoid spoilers, I will gush in the end-note. I invite you all to join me in my flailing.
> 
> Happy reading!
> 
> ~ LS

A house elf popped into existence just in front of Harry on Saturday morning, startling him as he bent down to buckle his boot. “Holy shit!” Harry half-shouted, startling the elf in turn. Straightening back up without finishing the buckles, Harry pressed a hand to his heart, panting. “I’m sorry, you just startled me...did you need something?”

 

“Master Epi is being having persons coming through the Floo.” The elf squeaked, a bit breathlessly. “Tipsy can to be taking Master Epi down in a blink, if Master Epi is to be wanting Tipsy to.”

 

Harry grinned; he was thrilled his friends were there. “Sure, that’d be great.” Harry told the elf.

 

The next thing he knew Tipsy had touched his leg and with a loud crack he was standing in the hallway outside the door to the Floo Room. A room Harry hadn’t even known existed until his father and he had arrived through it on his first day at the Manor. Apparently previous generations of pureblood witches and wizards had decided it was crass to just traipse soot through someone’s sitting room while visiting, so they’d designated a room specifically for that purpose. So the visitor would arrive in the Floo Room, de-soot themselves, and then proceed into the home. Eminently practical, really.

 

As Tipsy curtseyed and disappeared, Harry realized his left boot was still unfastened. Rolling his eyes, he crouched down and began doing up the buckles. The whoosh of the Floo from the room had Harry’s head coming up. A smile formed on his lips as he heard Neville’s voice.

 

“Wow. This is Professor Snape’s house?” Neville sounded awed and Harry could picture how his hazel eyes would be widened in surprise as he took in the cheerful Floo Room, done in blues and purples. “I can’t believe I’m standing in Professor Snape’s Floo Room…”

 

Ron’s voice cut through the air next. “Yeah, well…Epitome seemed nice enough, considering he’s Snape’s kid and all.”

 

Harry chuckled and shook his head, resuming buckling his boot as Neville responded. “I can’t believe I got invited. I mean, I haven’t even met him yet.”

 

The Floo whooshed again and Luna’s airy voice pealed through the air. “This is very elegant, isn’t it? Very posh.” Harry could just imagine her dreamy expression as she looked around. “I’m very excited for the party. I hope Epitome likes his present.”

 

“I wasn’t sure what to get him.” Neville sounded worried now; Harry pushed himself back up to his feet and stepped towards the door. “I’ve never been invited to a party before. Well, other than Harry’s. But that got cancelled, so I’m not sure it counts.”

 

“Of course it counts.” Hermione said loyally as Harry pulled open the door; she was patting Neville lightly on the arm. “Cancelled or not, you were still _invited_.”

 

“Hello.” Harry said with a grin as he stepped into the room. He watched everyone take him in from head to toe. His hair was pulled back into a low ponytail again and he was wearing comfortable, dark blue jeans that hugged his legs and a tight black tee-shirt under a forest green, short-sleeved button-up that he’d left unbuttoned and his now-usual boots. “Ron, Hermione, Ginny…lovely to see you all again.”

 

The three of them murmured greetings and Harry turned to Neville. “You must be Neville Longbottom, then.” Harry held out his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

 

“Oh, um…” Neville fumbled with a small package wrapped in dark blue paper, then shook Harry’s hand very quickly; he was very obviously nervous. “It’s nice to meet you, too. Epitome, right?”

 

“Epi, please.” Harry told him with an easy smile. Then he turned to Luna and clasped both of her small hands in his. “You must be Luna Lovegood. My father seems to think we’ll get on quite well.”

 

Luna’s vacant blue eyes focused on his face and for a terrifying moment Harry wondered if she’d realize who he was…and if she’d tell if she realized, or hold his secret as Ollivander had. Her smile widened and her eyes went dreamy again as she said airily. “Happy belated birthday.”

 

“Epi’s birthday isn’t until Monday, Luna.” Ginny corrected, rolling her eyes behind the blonde girl’s back while Hermione did the same and Ron shook his head, looking bemused. Neville bit his lip to stifle his laughter. “We’re celebrating it _early,_ not late.”

 

“Ah.” Luna’s smile widened and she winked discreetly at Harry. “My mistake. Well, happy birthday anyway, Epi.” She leaned up on her toes, braced her hands on his shoulders, and kissed his cheek, whispering in his ear. “I’ve missed you.”

 

Harry wound his arms around her waist and gave her a tight squeeze, whispering back. “I’ve missed you, too, Luna. Don’t tell?”

 

Luna giggled as Harry released her and said loftily. “I would _never_ , Epi. Never.”

 

Ignoring the baffled looks his other friends were exchanging as they’d missed the whispered conversation Harry had just had with Luna, Harry beamed at them all. “So…just stack your things by the door and the house elves will bring it all upstairs.”

 

Hermione’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “You do realize, Epitome, that house elves are _slaves?”_ She looked ready to explode.

 

“Yes, Hermione. I’m well aware of the fact that they’re not paid.” Harry’s voice was dry; Hermione and house elves were an endless source of either amusement or frustration, depending on one’s mood. “Why do you ask?”

 

“Slavery is _wrong!”_ The Gryffindor girl hissed. She stomped her foot and glared, adding. “I cannot fathom how anyone can condone it!”

 

Harry rolled his eyes and snapped his fingers, summoning Tipsy, who appeared instantly with a loud crack. “Master Epi is to be needing something from Tipsy?”

 

Harry smiled; Tipsy had been assigned to be his personal elf and he quite liked her. “I need to ask you something, Tipsy, but you’re not to worry. I promise you aren’t in trouble.” Her blue eyes widened, but she nodded to show she understood. “What would you do if I gave you clothes?”

 

Tipsy began to shake and when she spoke it was in a trembling whisper. “Tipsy would be crying very much if Master Epi is to be giving her clothes.” The elf said earnestly. “Tipsy is to be living to make Master Epi’s life easier. Tipsy is to be wanting to stay with Master Epi forever. Tipsy is to be sad if she is failing in her purpose.”

 

“But Tipsy.” It was Hermione who addressed the elf now, leaning down to get closer to her. “Wouldn’t it be nice to be free? To have holidays and get paid and be able to do what you wanted?”

 

Tipsy stared at Hermione as though she were insane. “Tipsy is _wanting_ to be owned, Miss. Tipsy is born to be serving. Tipsy is born to be making Masters and Mistresses happy. Elves is born to do this. Elves is never happy when freed. Elves is needing owners. Elf magic is needing a home.” Tipsy looked up at Harry with confusion on her face. “Tipsy is not sure how to be saying this, Master Epi. Tipsy is needing a Master and a home to serve. Elves is needing these things. Always.”

 

Harry turned to a stunned Hermione. “It’s how they are.” He told her gently. “It’s not slavery in the way you’re thinking of it. Elves willingly bind themselves to their family and home. It hurts them greatly to be severed from it. That’s why it’s a _punishment_ to be given clothes.”

 

Hermione had sunk down to sit on the floor, staring up at Harry in shock. “But…but Dobby wanted to be free. He’s happy being free. He works at Hogwarts, yes, but he gets wages…”

 

Tipsy was the one who spoke. “Miss, Tipsy is knowing of Dobby. Dobby is not being a normal elf. Dobby is not being happy serving his family.” She shook her head, looking terribly sad. “Is never good, Miss, when elves is not happy with their family. But elves is _needing_ families to be serving. Dobby is being better at Hogwarts where no family is. Is a better place for being freed. Other elves happier to be being with a family. Tipsy is loving Master Epi. Tipsy is needing to be serving Master Epi. Tipsy was born for Master Epi. Tipsy was just waiting for him.”

 

“You mean…you mean elves are born to serve a certain person?” Hermione asked slowly, clearly struggling to understand. Surrounded by Purebloods – and Harry – who all knew what Tipsy meant, she stared in shock as her friends turned their faces away from her. “I don’t understand…” She finally admitted, looking miserable.

 

Harry knelt beside her and squeezed her hand. “Elves love their family. They love their home. They punish themselves when they speak ill of their family out of _love_ , not slavery. It’s part of their natural, inherent magic. They can’t bear to malign those they love.” He smiled at Tipsy. “And most of them are loved in return, you know. Their Masters and Mistresses love them for their unswerving loyalty and devotion; it’s pretty hard _not_ to love them, actually.”

 

Tipsy’s blue eyes filled with tears and she beamed at Harry. “Tipsy is loving Master Epi very much. Tipsy is loving Master Epi more than anything.”

 

Harry grinned back at her. “I love you too, Tipsy. Go on and finish your chores, then.”

 

The elf popped out of the room and Harry smiled tenderly at Hermione. “They’re hard to understand because they aren’t human, Hermione. They don’t _want_ to be free. They don’t _want_ to leave their families or get paid. It’s not a job to them. It’s their _life_. Without a home and a family, an elf is cast adrift. They have no one to tune their magic to; no one to sync themselves to. It’s a terrible thing for an elf to lose their family.”

 

Hermione sniffled and nodded, getting to her feet with Harry’s help. “I…I didn’t realize…”

 

Ron stepped up and gave Hermione a hug, saying softly. “I tried to tell you that they don’t want to be free; that Dobby is just weird. But you didn’t want to listen. Not even when Winky tried to tell you. Though she was pretty drunk, so she wasn’t real coherent.”

 

Harry cleared his throat. “Well, now that that’s all sorted…we should head over to the park. We’re meeting my friends over there.” He flushed a bit, unable to keep the guilty look off his face. “Oh and, er…I didn’t exactly tell them you’d be joining us. So if you could just…you know…play nice? Try to remember this is my birthday celebration. I’ll make sure they behave as well.”

 

And ignoring the confused and worried expressions his friends exchanged, Harry shooed them all out of the Floo Room and towards the Manor’s front door. This…was going to be interesting.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Harry stopped nervously outside the castle at the park. Hermione was still staring in awe at the playground equipment while Ron and Ginny bemoaned the rather unimpressive park near the Burrow and Neville admitted that the one near his house had had a pirate ship, but he’d rarely been allowed to play. Luna was merely commenting on how lovely the castle was. But, well…that was Luna. Harry reached for the spot to touch to raise the portcullis door, then stopped and turned back to face the others. He looked at them all and prayed he was doing the right thing.

 

“Okay, I’m going to go in first and…explain.” Harry told his friends. “So just wait out here until I call you and then come in.” Harry hesitated for a moment, then added. “And please try to trust me.”

 

Then he quickly turned and raised the door, slipping inside the castle before any of them could question him or protest. Almost the second he stepped into the castle proper, Astoria flew across the room and into his arms. “Happy early birthday, Epi!” She cried as he swung her in a circle. When he set her on her feet, she beamed up at him from the circle of his arms. “Did you mean it? Your text, I mean?” Her hair was pulled back into a braid for once and she was wearing a white denim skirt that came to mid-thigh, a mint-green tee-shirt, and white slip-on flats.

 

Harry knew she meant the mass-text he’d sent them all the night before, inviting them to spend the night with _‘a few other friends of mine’_ for his birthday, which would also allow Astoria to come clubbing with them. “Of course I meant it, ‘Ria.” He told her as he let her go and turned to face the others. “Dad said you’re all perfectly welcome to spend the night, provided there’s no bloodshed.”

 

“Bloodshed?” Draco’s eyebrow came up and the sneer was in full force. He was dressed as he usually was for their outings; black leather pants with dragon hide boots and a skin-tight tee-shirt, which was a dark blue this time. “Who does Severus think would be killing whom?”

 

And hating this sneering version of the Slytherin he considered a good friend most of the time, Harry snapped. “I’m pretty sure he thinks _you_ will be killing my other friends. Which would result in me killing you and my godfather killing Dad. So if you want to spend the night – or even come along to celebrate tonight – then you’ll drop the attitude and act like you do when it’s just the two of us.”

 

Pansy let out a nervous little laugh; she knew Draco’s temper better than anyone. “Now, now, Epi. No need to overreact. I’m sure we’ll get along with your friends just fine. Are they from Greece?”

 

Harry chuckled and shook his head, turning to smile at the pixie-like girl. She was dressed in a hot-pink and black sun dress and strappy black sandals. “No, they’re not from Greece. I didn’t have many friends on Diematos, actually. They know my godfather, though. I met them yesterday and got on well with them, so I invited them along.”

 

“So what’s Professor Snape worried about us fighting for?” Daphne queried, tipping her head to the side, which caused her long blonde hair to cascade over one shoulder. Her dark-blue strapless sundress had bright yellow flowers decorating the hem and a three-inch thick yellow sash around her waist. “I mean, who are they?”

 

“Well, my godfather is Remus Lupin; I guess he taught you lot one year? Well, anyway, three of them are the children of friends of his and the other two are friends of those three.” Harry explained as quickly as he could get the words out. “And apparently there’s some rivalry or something, due to Houses. Which is utterly ridiculous, if you ask me. I like you all and I want you at least _try_ to get along. For my birthday, at the very least. Please?”

 

“Of course we’ll be nice to your friends.” Astoria told him without hesitation, linking her arm through his and smiling widely. “None of us are going to ruin your birthday party, Epi. We promise.”

 

Pansy, Daphne, and Draco murmured their agreements. Harry frowned, looking around. “Blaise is running late or something?”

 

“Oh, his mother was dragging him somewhere.” Daphne explained dismissively. “But he said he’d meet us in London, at the Leaky, so we’ll make sure the Knight Bus drops us there.”

 

“Oh. Right. Well, then I guess I’d better bring in my friends.” And Harry cleared his throat loudly before calling out. “You guys can come in now!”

 

Ron, Ginny, Hermione, Luna, and Neville stepped into the castle and froze. So did the Slytherins. ‘Ria’s grip on his arm tightened, her nails digging into his flesh as she tensed. “Epi…” She breathed, looking slightly horrified. “Epi, you’re _joking_ right?”

 

“No, I’m not.” Harry’s voice was cool and firm. “Pans, Draco, Daphne, ‘Ria…this is Ron, Hermione, Neville, Luna, and Ginny. Guys, this is Draco, Pansy, Daphne, and her sister Astoria.” Harry looked sternly between the two groups. “I don’t want fighting. We’re going to go out, celebrate my birthday, get a bit drunk, dance, and have a good time. Then we’re going to go back to my house and spend the night laughing and hanging out. There will be no bloodshed or duels or anything.”

 

Luna grinned at Harry and said absently. “Really, Epi. I should have expected this.” Then she walked forwards until she was facing the group of Slytherins who were hovering around Harry and held out her hand. “A pleasure to meet you all. Any friend of Epi’s is a friend of mine.”

 

There was an awkward pause, then Astoria clasped Luna’s hand and shook it tentatively for a moment before dropping it, saying. “Yes, likewise. It’s lovely to meet more of Epi’s friends.”

 

Struggling for something else positive to say, Astoria took in Luna’s outfit. She had on a faded pair of jeans with holes in the knees, an old pair of men’s work boots that were scuffed and had mud still on them, and a red and black and yellow plaid flannel shirt that had had the sleeves torn off. Around her neck was her string of Butterbeer caps and her radish-look-alike earrings were in her ears. Her hair hung loose around her face and shoulders.

 

Finally settling on the bracelet Luna was wearing, Astoria said. “That’s a very unique piece of jewelry, Luna. I quite like it. Where did you get it?”

 

Luna lifted her arm, studying the spoon that was curled around her wrist, and smiled vacantly. “I made it, of course. I could make you one, if you like. Just bring me a spoon you like the look of.” Astoria simply nodded, not quite sure how to reply to that offer.

 

Daphne, not to be outdone by her little sister, turned to smile at Hermione. The bushy-haired Gryffindor girl was wearing light blue capris, a white camisole top, and sensible white tennis shoes. Her thick, wild hair was pulled back into a ponytail, but riotous curls had already begun to escape. Clearing her throat, Daphne said softly. “I like your necklace, Granger. It’s very pretty.”

 

The necklace in question was a small teardrop-shaped ruby set in gold, hanging from a gold chain. She let her fingers ghost over it, then said softly. “Thank you. It was a gift from my parents for my birthday. A bit early, but since I’m at school for my birthday, I always get my presents early.”

 

There was another awkward pause, then Hermione bit her lip and spoke. “I, um…I like your shoes.” She offered softly. Daphne’s flat sandals were the same blue as her dress and had ribbons that laced halfway up her calves and the soles were made of tight-woven twine.

 

Ginny cleared her throat and smiled sweetly at Draco. “I like the way your hair looks when it’s not slicked back.” She told him, gesturing at the platinum blonde locks that were falling loose around his face. “You should wear it like this more often. It sort of softens your features.”

 

Draco raised an eyebrow, then let his lips curve upwards into that dazzling smile of his. “Thanks, girl-Weasley.” He drawled. He let his eyes drift over her critically – she was wearing simple blue jeans, a pair of beat-up trainers, and a yellow tee-shirt. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail. “Yellow is a terrible color for gingers, though. Don’t ever wear it again.”

 

“Her name is Ginny!” Ron snarled, glaring heatedly at Draco and taking a threatening step forward. “And who do you think you are, telling her what to wear, Malfoy?”

 

“Weasley.” Pansy’s voice was soft and amused; Ron’s attention snapped to her. “Dray doesn’t give fashion advice to just anyone. That was his way of making-nice. Relax a touch or Epi might send you home.”

 

Ron crossed his arms over his chest and frowned, looking sulky. Draco rolled his eyes and turned to quirk an eyebrow at Harry. “This isn’t going to work, Epi. Slytherins don’t play well with others.”

 

“Well you’re just going to have to learn how, aren’t you?” Harry snapped, completely irritated by Draco’s words. “If you can’t manage, then go home.” With an icy look he added. “And find someone else to teach you to ride your motorcycle. I refuse to be friends with someone who can’t even manage to be civil to my other friends for my birthday.”

 

“Epitome, Granger is _a Mudblood!”_ Draco hissed, grabbing Harry’s arm and squeezing to emphasize what was apparently supposed to be a shocking revelation.

 

Harry shook off Draco’s hand and sneered; the look was quite effective on his new face. “Yes, and so was my mother. And Dad’s father was a Muggle.” Then, feeling particularly irritated with Draco and having learned quite a lot about the boy in the last couple of weeks, Harry reached out and ran both of his hands through Draco’s hair and over his face, adding waspishly. “And now you’ve got my tainted-blood germs all over your precious pure skin…oh wait. How _pure_ is your family again?”

 

And Draco’s face flushed pink as he glared at Harry. “You _would_ bring that up, wouldn’t you? I told you that _in confidence_ , Epitome!”

 

“Well, then shut your mouth about bloodlines.” Harry snapped back before turning to face the others with a bright smile, ignoring their confused expressions. “Now then, we’re meeting Blaise at the Leaky so we’ll need to hop onto the Knight Bus. So whose turn is it?”

 

‘Ria thought for a moment, then said. “I think the Bus is actually Blaise today, which figures since he’s not here, but we ought to adjust things anyway since it’s your birthday. And since we’ve got _guests_.”

 

“I’ll pay for them.” Harry said, waving his hand dismissively. “They’re my guests, after all. As to the Bus…well, Blaise ought to still pay since it’s his turn. Ernie and Stan are used to our system. I’m sure they’ll let Blaise pay once we arrive, rather than before.”

 

Draco cleared his throat. “No, you shouldn’t have to pay for anything, Epi. ‘Ria’s right; it’s your birthday party and we’ll handle it.” He turned to face the others and said softly. “We have a system in place for paying for everything. It won’t make much sense to you, since you don’t view things the way Slytherins do, but it’s how we do it. So don’t argue and just accept that we’re paying.”

 

Ron’s mouth pinched, but he nodded.

 

“If it’s how things are done, then we’re happy to go along with it, Malfoy. For Epi’s sake.” Hermione said quietly. Then she glanced down at herself and sighed. “We are going shopping, though, right? Because I don’t think this is suitable for a club.”

 

Daphne laughed. “No, it’s not. Though what _is_ will depend on which club we go to. Which we’ll figure out once we’re in London.”

 

Harry saw the uncomfortable looks on Ron and Ginny’s faces; neither of them had a lot of pocket money to be spending on an outfit for one night out. Luna looked a little worried as well. Though she and her father were better off than the Weasleys, it wasn’t by much. So he smiled and told a lie. “In my family…or rather, in my stepfather’s family, it was a tradition for the person whose birthday it was to give gifts. It was usually something small, like key chains or something, but I think I’ll go a bit bigger. I’ll buy everyone’s outfits for tonight.”

 

“That’s the weirdest tradition I’ve ever heard of.” Pansy purred, then gave Harry a winning smile. “But if you’re buying me clothes, then I’m not complaining.”

 

Harry rolled his eyes. “Come on, then. I can’t flag the Knight Bus from in here.” They all stepped outside and Harry summoned the Bus, explaining to Ernie and Stan that it was Blaise’s turn to pay and he was meeting them at the Leaky, so he’d pay them once they got there.

 

“Not a problem, Epitome.” Stan said, gesturing for them all to sit on squishy armchairs. “We know you lot are good for it. And even if he’s not there yet, he can always pay it on the return trip.”

 

Everyone sat and Astoria perched herself on Harry’s lap, as she tended to do. “I can’t believe I’m coming with you guys!” She gushed, practically vibrating with happiness. “And your father really doesn’t mind if we’re all spending the night?”

 

“Nah, Dad doesn’t care.” Harry said, waving off her concerns. “There’s technically going to be rooms assigned to everyone, but I figured we could all just crash in my room. Have Tipsy turn the floor soft or something.”

 

“Oooh, fun!” Daphne giggled. “We can play some party games to get to know each other better! You know, like Truth or Dare and Never Have I Ever.”

 

“I love Never Have I Ever.” Everyone turned to stare at Neville in surprise. He blushed, but said defensively. “Well, I do. It’s a neat way to tell people about yourself and admit things you might never have admitted otherwise.”

 

Pansy smiled at Neville reassuringly. “Well, I think we’ll definitely play that one, then. Probably safer than Truth or Dare with this mixed group, anyway, right?”

 

Harry watched as Draco wiggled his eyebrows at Pansy, then pulled a face, causing her cheeks to turn pink. No one else noticed, but Harry did. For a moment he was confused, until he remembered the first day he’d ‘met’ the Slytherins, when he’d found out Pansy had a crush on a Gryffindor. He had never imagined it would be _Neville_ , but the more he thought about it, the more he approved. Pansy was sweet and funny and outrageous; she would be an interesting match for the shy, easily-embarrassed, but now-with-a-spine, Neville.

 

Slowly, the two groups of his friends began to talk to each other. Daphne asked Hermione if they could study Arithmancy together this year and Hermione agreed. Astoria asked Ron if he’d like to play chess with her, since she’d heard he was good and Draco was the only person of her skill level in Slytherin and she got tired of playing the same person all the time. Ron agreed and even told Draco he’d play _him_ sometime if Draco was agreeable, which he was. Ginny asked Pansy and Draco to help her pick out her outfit tonight and they readily agreed. Astoria offered softly to help Luna pick out her outfit and the Ravenclaw thanked her in advance. All-in-all, Harry was very pleased with how maturely everyone was behaving.

 

Hermione unintentionally put Harry on the spot just a little ways from London. “So, Epi…is Astoria your girlfriend, then?” She gestured to the way the girl was snuggled onto his lap.

 

The Slytherins all started laughing while Harry closed his eyes and blushed. He’d never told his friends about his preferences; this wasn’t going to be easy. “Er, no. She’s not my girlfriend.” He said it softly, blinking open his eyes to stare at Hermione, hoping that would be the end of it.

 

Astoria, however, didn’t seem to sense his desire to end this topic of conversation. “Oh, that was very funny, Hermione! I’m hardly Epi’s type, though.” Winking, the precocious girl mock-whispered. “Wrong set of bits and all that.”

 

The Slytherins laughed again while Harry’s old friends looked surprised. “Oh, I’m sorry. I hadn’t…that is, I didn’t realize…” Hermione was stammering and blushing like mad.

 

“I knew.” Luna smiled vaguely at Harry and added. “It’s not that hard to tell, really. Do you have a boyfriend then, Epi?”

 

“Of course you knew.” Harry told her with a grin. “You seem to know everything. Is that why you’re in Ravenclaw? Because you’re psychic and needed an excuse for always knowing the answer?”

 

“But of course.” Luna replied airily, grinning back. “But I don’t know if you have a boyfriend or not, so you’ll have to answer the question.”

 

Daphne giggled and batted her eyelashes. “Epi has an _almost_ -boyfriend, don’t you, Epi?” When the girls all ‘ _oooh’d’_ she added. “Blaise and Epi have been dancing around each other since they met. It’s very sweet, actually. Blaise has something of a reputation, but he’s been very devoted to seeking Epi’s attention lately.”

 

Draco sneered. “There’s no need to mince words, Daphne. Blaise doesn’t know the meaning of the word fidelity.” He turned silver eyes on Epi and added. “You’d be far better off if you just steered clear of him. I know he’s charming, believe me.” Draco grimaced. “But he’ll just end up hurting you in the end.”

 

“Now that’s not fair, Draco.” Pansy admonished softly. “You know that Blaise hasn’t been with anyone else since he met Epi. He seems to genuinely like him.”

 

“Oh don’t start, Pans.” Draco glared at her. “You know as well as I do that leopards don’t change their spots! All of that nonsense about ‘reformed rakes make the best husbands’ is just that; _nonsense_. And I, for one, don’t want to be the one responsible for telling Severus, ‘Well, sir, we knew Blaise was the sort to cheat, but we let him shag your son anyway and now poor Epitome is heartbroken. So sorry.’ I happen to like being _alive_ , you know.”

 

Ginny frowned, speaking up. “Well, just because he cheated in the past doesn’t mean he’ll cheat now. I mean, if he really cares about Epi, he could change for him.”

 

Draco snorted. “Gryffindor optimism at its best. How utterly charming. But I’ve known Blaise our whole lives and infidelity has been bred into him. I’m not saying he’s a bad person, or even a bad friend. But he’s not a good person to take as your lover.”

 

Harry felt his face flush, both with embarrassment and anger. “Well, I don’t see how it’s any of your business who I do or do not sleep with!” Harry snapped, horrified that this was being discussed. “I don’t recall asking for your opinion on the matter and, to be perfectly honest, I don’t _want_ your opinion! I am not sleeping with Blaise and, should I decide to do so, then that’s my business and no one else’s.”

 

Astoria cringed and tried to smooth things over. “Epi, Draco didn’t mean to be…offensive. He’s just…well, in his own way, he’s just trying to protect you, that’s all. He’s just naturally cynical.”

 

Draco sneered. “I don’t need you to defend me, ‘Ria. I meant every word I said. Blaise is a connoisseur of the human form and, let’s face it, Epitome is exquisite.” Harry blushed and Draco added coldly. “But Blaise is not known for loyalty or faithfulness. He _will_ stray. And if Epitome wishes to walk blithely into that sort of heartbreak, then I certainly can’t stop him, can I? He’s been warned; I can’t do anything more.”

 

Just then the bus pulled up in front of the Leaky, where Blaise was waiting outside. Feeling oddly vindictive, Harry shot Draco an icy look, stormed off the bus, walked right up to Blaise, and kissed the older boy square on the mouth. Blaise was frozen for a split second, then he wound his arms around Harry’s waist, tipped his head a little to the side, and kissed back with all of his considerable skill. As the others watched through the windows, stunned,  Blaise slid one hand down to Harry’s ass, groping him quite blatantly. Harry pulled back, startled and blushing.

 

Hermione touched Draco’s arm lightly, drawing the fuming blonde’s attention. “I believe you’re right, Malfoy.” She told him softly; she had heard stories about Blaise and Parvati Patil had come back from a date with Blaise once, in tears and refusing to talk about it. “But I don’t think Epi will listen to us. So we’ll just have to be there for him, when it all shatters. Okay?”

 

Draco pressed his lips tightly together and nodded. “It would seem we have no other choice.” He agreed through gritted teeth, though it pained him to agree with Hermione on anything. “But I swear to Salazar, I will delight in watching Severus eviscerate Blaise when the time comes.”

 

Hermione said nothing as they filed off the Knight Bus while Blaise paid Stan. Then Blaise politely and charmingly greeted all of them before saying in a drawl. “Well, first things first, we ought to pick a club! I say Epi gets to pick, since it’s his birthday. Epi...” Blaise pulled Harry close to his side, one arm securely around his waist. “Where would you like to go?”

 

“Um…Noir.” Harry said after only a moment of thought. He’d been there twice now and had loved the club, with its pulsing lights, fog machines, driving music, and overall sultry setting. It was someplace he could cut loose; relax; be himself. “Definitely Noir.”

 

“Then it’s Roselle’s for outfits.” Daphne said easily, grinning and giving a little toss of her blonde hair. “I mean, everyone knows that Dragon’s Lair is the _only_ place to shop for Noir.”

 

There were murmurs of agreement from the other Slytherins; Harry’s old friends were looking a bit unsettled. “Roselle is great.” Harry assured them all, trying to be encouraging without slipping back into the role of ‘Harry Potter’ that he was determined to shed. “It’ll be fine.”

 

Pansy, determined to be helpful, looked at Hermione and offered quietly. “If it would make things easier, we can invite the Patil twins. We all grew up with Padma and Parvati, and I know you lot are friendly with them. They’d be common ground, like Epi.”

 

Hermione blinked, stunned, then nodded slowly. “I…well, yes. I mean, if you can get in touch with them and they’re available. That’s very kind of you. I think it would help everyone relax a little more if Epitome wasn’t the only one who was…friendly…with all of us.”

 

When Harry nodded to show his willingness to add more people to their ‘party’ Pansy was immediately digging through her purse for her phone. Draco had his out before she could find it and was already dialing. After a few seconds, he began speaking.

 

“Hello, my little lotus blossom.” There was a pause, then rich laughter from Draco. “Darling, you wound me! I knew you and your sister were in India for most of the summer; I could _never_ forget you.”

 

Another pause, then Draco purred. “We’re out for a friend’s birthday. A new friend, whom you will meet when you arrive.” A moment where the twin he was speaking to was talking, then he said. “Noir…yes, I know. Outfits are on Epi...the new friend.” Another pause, then. “Roselle’s, of course. I’d never suggest someplace inferior, Padma, you _know_ better.

 

“Yes, yes…of course.” Another burst of rich, delighted laughter from Draco, then he said. “No, we’re eating first. We’ll meet you at Roselle’s then.” He paused, thinking, then flicked his eyes to Epi and asked. “Will Sev mind more guests?”

 

Harry shrugged, then tugged his phone out of his pocket, dialing swiftly. Draco asked Padma to hold for a second while Harry waited for his dad to pick up. After a moment, Severus’ voice purred through the little speaker. “Is everything okay, Epi?”

 

“Everything’s fine.” Harry assured him, not wanting him to worry. “Is it okay if some new guests are added to the guest list? Draco’s inviting some girls…the Patil twins, Pansy called them.”

 

There was a pause, then Severus asked. “Do you want them here?” Harry immediately said yes, so Severus agreed. “Then of course. I’ll let the elves know to expect two more.”

 

“Thanks, Dad.” Harry said, grinning and nodding at everyone, who was watching expectantly. “You’re the best. I’ll see when you when we get home, if you’re up, or else in the morning. Love you.”

 

“I love you, too, Epi.” Severus said, making Harry grin even wider. “Have fun.”

 

Harry hung up, listening as Draco explained to Padma that they’d be spending the night at Severus Snape’s house. A few minutes later, after some more back and forth between Draco and Padma, Draco finally hung up the phone and said to the group. “They’ll meet us at Roselle’s in a couple of hours, which gives us enough time to eat before we head over there.” He glanced at Epi and asked. “What are you in the mood for, birthday boy?”

 

Harry didn’t even hesitate. “Indian.” The Slytherins laughed, knowing Harry’s preference for vindaloos, though Harry’s old friends didn’t really get the joke. Still, all things considered, it was going a _lot_ better than Harry had expected.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Dinner went smoothly, as did shopping at Roselle’s. Though Hermione, Ron, and Neville had all blanched upon seeing the place, they’d eventually been coaxed into Dragon’s Lair by the others. The timely arrival of Padma and Parvati helped smooth things over further, much to Harry’s delight. And both girls took an instant liking to ‘Epi’ although neither girl seemed very fond of Blaise. Harry tried not to read too much into it, ignoring the looks Hermione and Draco were giving each other. He refused to judge Blaise on things he’d done in the past. If he was giving the rest of the Slytherins – including his own father – a clean slate, then surely Blaise deserved one as well.

 

Once they’d arrived at Noir, all of them decked out in leather and skin-tight stretch-cotton and – in the case of Draco, Harry, and the girls – glitter fabrics, plus make-up and body glitter, several of Harry’s friends once again required coaxing to unwind and enjoy themselves. Thankfully a couple of drinks helped with that, and everyone was swiftly dancing and laughing and enjoying themselves. Slowly but surely, as they experienced being teenagers in a non-House setting for the first time, the lines between the two groups of Harry’s friends began to blur.

 

Neville danced with Pansy, while Ginny danced with Draco. Luna and Astoria chattered happily, rating the boys who walked past, while Hermione talked easily with Daphne and Padma about school things. It wasn’t long before Ron and Blaise were talking Quidditch, and Parvati was happy to dance with Harry when he wasn’t dancing with random guys. By the time it was edging on midnight, Harry’s friends were a seamless group, flitting from one to another, all getting along very well. Especially considering the previous animosity.

 

By the time they filed off the Knight Bus, giggling and pleasantly fuzzy from alcohol, it was going on one in the morning. _Not_ that any of the teens were sleepy. Tipsy, who was keyed to Harry’s magical signature, opened the door as they arrived. Harry ordered three bottles of Everclear to be sent to his room, along with thirteen shot glasses, then thanked her with a smile and a wink. Harry then led the way to his bedroom, giving a quick tour as they went. Everyone exclaimed over the décor, then there was a brief – but friendly – tussle over seating as the group settled in. It was made easier when Tipsy arrived, alcohol and glasses in tow, and made the thickly-carpeted floor as soft as a mattress.

 

Luna, Astoria, and Ginny wound up laying side-by-side on the bed, all three on their stomachs, arms and heads resting on pillows propped against the footboard. The rest of the group was sprawled in a loose circle on the floor, which was completed by the foot of the bed to include the three youngest in their group who had won the “best seats” by virtue of youth and whinging. Harry passed the shot glasses out, so everyone had one, then passed a bottle around so everyone could pour themselves a shot.

 

Once everyone had a drink in hand, Pansy explained the rules of the game. “So, the way ‘Never Have I Ever’ works is pretty simple. Someone says, ‘Never have I ever…’ and then says something they’ve never done. Everyone who _has_ done it takes a drink. Blaise will cast a nifty little spell to keep the game honest, since there’s always one or two things people don’t want to admit.”

 

Blaise grinned and drew his wand, waving it in a lovely little spiral that seemed to somehow encompass the entirety of the room, and said. “Veritas.”

 

Everything was washed in soft blue light for a moment. When it faded, Harry grinned. “All right, since it’s my birthday I get to go first.” No one objected, so Harry took a moment to think about what he wanted to say; what he wanted to reveal – and what he wanted the group to reveal to each other. It took a few minutes to think of the perfect thing, but no one tried to rush him at all which was nice.

 

“Never have I ever…had sex.” Harry already knew what most of the two groups would do – who would drink and who wouldn’t – but it would be interesting to see their reactions to each other.

 

Padma and Parvati both downed their shots, clinking them together first in an amusing display of sisterly support. Ginny, Ron, and Neville all turned pink but didn’t touch their drinks. Neither did Astoria, and of course Pansy’s drink was untouched. Blaise and Draco both drank, though Draco’s face was closed off rather than smug like the other Slytherin male.

 

After Daphne drank, she admitted shamelessly. “A Slytherin who graduated last year. His name isn’t important, but he was _totally_ gorgeous.”

 

Luna daintily drank her shot, earning her startled look. She shrugged and explained. “We Ravenclaws are curious by nature. It was purely for empirical purposes, you understand.”

 

Ron cursing heatedly drew everyone’s attention away from Luna, just in time to see Hermione making a face and setting her glass back down. Ron’s face was getting redder by the second and Harry’s old friends cringed away, waiting for the explosion that was coming. He and Hermione hadn’t been dating long – only since the start of the summer, really – but since Ron hadn’t drank, it clearly wasn’t him that she’d slept with. And even if they hadn’t been together when it had happened, Ron was sure to blow up. It was just how he was.

 

Draco was the one who prevented the explosion. He let out a low, impressed whistle, drawing the focus to himself, and drawled. “Who was the lucky guy, Granger?”

 

Blushing, Hermione gave Ron a frosty look and said. “Viktor Krum. It was shortly after the Yule Ball, when Ron was being a complete arse to me.”

 

“No wonder he wouldn’t give up on you!” Ginny giggled from the bed, wiggling her eyebrows at Hermione who gave her a small smile in return. “Was it completely awesome?”

 

Hermione shook her head, her smile growing. “Not even a little. Viktor was…well, he was rather brusque about the whole thing. Sort of mechanical and rushed. After that…I decided the fan girls were welcome to him.”

 

“We were only fourteen back then!” Pansy exclaimed, gaping at Hermione. “You…but…you’re such a goody two shoes, Granger! How in the blazes did you work up the nerve at _fourteen?”_

 

“I wasn’t fourteen.” Hermione explained. She’d forgotten the Slytherins didn’t know her birthday. “My birthday is September 19th. So I was already fifteen for several months by then.”

 

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me!” Ron exploded out, finally, glaring at Hermione.

 

She shot him a cold look. “It was hardly any of your business at the time, and we haven’t been dating all that long. I’d have told you eventually.” When Ron opened his mouth, still scowling, she added. “What I did before we were together is _my_ business, Ron. I suggest you drop it.”

 

Blaise cleared his throat, raising an eyebrow. “As _fascinating_ as this is, I think it would be best if we continued...yes?” When Ron and Hermione both blushed, Blaise gestured to the glass he’d just filled back up. “If everyone will refill their glasses...”

 

When everyone’s glasses were filled, Blaise pursed his lips as though thinking for a moment, then purred quietly. “Never have I ever shagged a friend.”

 

Harry blinked, confused, when he realized Blaise was staring at Draco. Harry followed his gaze and was even more confused by the hurt look on Draco’s face as the blonde raised his own glass and drank. His eyes were drawn to Blaise again when the oldest boy raised his own glass, seemed to toast Draco, and downed it in one quick swallow. Draco’s face was blank again in an instant, but Harry’s mind was already racing, trying to put the pieces together in a way that made sense.

 

Before he could, Hermione was protesting. “Hey! You can’t say something you _have_ done! That’s against the rules!”

 

Blaise smirked at her. “I’m a Slytherin, remember? We don’t follow the rules, little girl.”

 

“I’m almost as old as you are.” Hermione snapped back, glaring. “Don’t condescend to me.”

 

Blaise shrugged and nodded towards Luna. “Your little friend drank...bet there’s a story there.” Harry almost wanted to thank him for ending the fighting; he just wasn’t up for playing referee and was grateful Blaise had ended it on his own.

 

Luna shrugged. “I’m hardly a diversion, Blaise.” Her airy voice was somehow admonishing. “And no, no story. Just Ravenclaw curiosity and mutual assistance in assuaging it.”

 

Padma downed her shot and grinned, nodding towards Luna. “What she said...ditto for me. Us Ravenclaws tend to help each other out with that sort of thing.”

 

Once everyone’s glasses were refilled, Daphne thought for a moment, then said. “Never have I ever...gone down on a girl.”

 

Blaise once again downed his shot, making Harry silently hope the other boy had a high tolerance. He was going to be completely trashed at this rate. Luna also drank again, making several sets of eyes widen. This time, she didn’t offer an explanation – she just grinned. Harry couldn’t help snickering; she was just so completely okay with being out there.

 

Parvati drank as well. When everyone looked at her, she said indignantly. “What? I can’t be adventurous now? I _am_ a Gryffindor!” Padma giggled, but patted her sister’s hand soothingly.

 

Astoria, who was watching the twins, raised an eyebrow and – just as soon as everyone had a chance to refill their glasses – stated. “Never have I ever experimented with a sibling.”

 

She looked a little disappointed when the twins didn’t drink, instead collapsing against each other in a fit of shared laughter. When they calmed down, Padma said. “Um, no. We’re not _that_ close.”

 

Suddenly Ginny made a choked sound and Hermione gasped. Everyone looked around wildly, then froze when they realized Ron was setting his glass back on the floor in front of him, _empty._ “Holy shit, Ron...who the _hell_ did you...ugh! Which of my other brothers is a pervert?”

 

Ron’s face was bright red, and he was staring intently at the glass rather than at anyone in the room. In a low mutter, he managed. “I wouldn’t have _called_  it experimenting...guess the stupid spell thinks it was. I just...it’s not...never mind. Not important. It was nothing.”

 

“Obviously it was _something.”_ Draco drawled, looking askance at the redhead sitting beside him. “But as I’d really rather not know the details, I suggest Ginny take her turn now.”

 

Harry nodded, though he was deeply curious as to which of Ron’s brothers had _done something_ with his best friend. “I agree. Ginny...if you would?”

 

Ron filled his glass back up as Ginny made a face, but took her turn. “Fine...but I’m revisiting this issue when we’re home, Ron. Never have I ever...danced on a table drunk.”

 

There was a pause, then every one of the Slytherins raised their glasses – as did Harry – in a silent toast and took a drink. After a moment, Hermione said. “Well, I hope you weren’t all doing it at the same time...the table probably would have broken.”

 

Everyone burst out in startled laughter, with Luna drinking through her giggling. When everyone looked at her, she giggled again and said. “What, that’s surprising?” She shook her head, and said. “Fill your glasses so I can go!”

 

A moment later, she grinned and said. “Never have I ever woken up with someone I didn’t know in my bed.”

 

Blaise drank _again_ and Harry felt a little nauseated; this game was making it harder to give Blaise a “clean slate” than he anticipated. Suddenly Harry felt compelled to drink. He blinked, stunned, as his hand reached out and brought his glass to his lips, forcing him to drink. His mind raced, trying to understand why in the hell he was drinking, when it suddenly clicked. Of course he’d woken up in bed with someone he didn’t know. Quite recently, in fact. _Himself,_ on his birthday.

 

Everyone looked at him expectantly – and wasn’t it a bit annoying that no one looked at _Blaise_ for an explanation? Annoying...and telling. But he couldn’t explain; not this. So instead he just shrugged and said. “Hey, sometimes shit happens.”

 

Draco snorted as Harry and Blaise refilled their glasses, then locked eyes with Blaise as he said. “Never have I ever betrayed a friend.”

 

Blaise smirked, raised his glass, and toasted Draco again before drinking. Harry _really_ wanted to know what the backstory was with the two of them – especially considering Draco seemed okay with Blaise at times – but he wasn’t sure how to ask. No one else seemed willing to pry into it, either. No one else drank, which was a little awkward, but Blaise didn’t seem bothered as he refilled his glass. Harry shifted uncomfortably, but told himself that Blaise had changed; that he wasn’t the person he used to be. The Slytherin girls insisted he was different with _Epi_. Harry just had to trust him.

 

Ron frowned, then glanced at Hermione and said. “Never have I ever given a blowjob.”

 

Hermione glared at Ron, crossing her arms over her chest. “You are a complete arsekettle, Ronald Weasley! If I _had_ it would have served you right to find out, prying like that!”

 

Ron blushed, looking back down, and Ginny added. “Especially considering you did _whatever-you-did_ with whichever brother you did it with! You’re a hypocrite.” Then Ginny raised her glass, drank, and snapped. “It’s none of your business who, Ron, so don’t you _dare_ ask!”

 

Luna and Blaise both drank, though no one was surprised at that point. Daphne drank as well, and admitted. “Theo. He was...okay, as far as boyfriends go.”

 

The twins both drank, with another quick salute to each other, and refused to explain. Not that anyone was surprised by _that_ either. They both seemed to enjoy being mysterious. Harry wondered if it was because they weren’t quite as close to either group of friends as the others were. And that was it. Hermione, Ron, Neville, Pansy, Astoria, Draco, and Harry all had untouched drinks. Harry felt a bit bad for Astoria, who had only drank the once, but she _was_ younger than the rest of them.

 

Hermione seemed deep in thought as everyone poured their drinks and Harry was a bit interested in seeing what she would say. When she finally spoke, he was stunned. “Never have I ever used a Dark Arts spell.”

 

Then she locked eyes with Blaise, drained her glass, and said primly. “Gryffindors can break the rules, too, you know.”

 

Ron raised his glass and drank as well, completely without hesitation. Astoria made a confused sound, and Ron said softly. “We trained with Harry. Sometimes that means learning things we hope we never need to _really_ use.”

 

Draco and Pansy looked at each other, then nodded and drank at the same time. Neither looked pleased, or entirely comfortable, but they also both kept their chins in the air as though daring someone – _anyone_ – to say something about it. No one did.

 

Harry cursed silently as he was forced to raise his own glass and drink. Seeing confused looks from almost everyone – since the Slytherins knew _‘Epi’_ was Light, unlike (as far as they knew) his father and the others (excepting the twins) knew he (and his father) were both Light – Harry said. “My tutor, Ardeth – he’ll be teaching Defense this year at Hogwarts – believed in teaching me _everything._ Even if it was sometimes a bit unorthodox, I’m grateful. It’s hard to fight against something you don’t understand.”

 

There was a moment where no one spoke, then Ginny raised her glass and drained it. There were several sharp intakes of breath, then she said in the tiniest voice. “My First Year.”

 

Everyone looked away, and Draco’s face flushed red before losing all color, but no one said anything. After a few seconds, Daphne leaned in and whispered something to Astoria; Harry figured she was offering to explain what Ginny meant later. Right after that, Blaise leaned in and made the same offer to Harry. He didn’t need the explanation, of course, but since no one knew that...Harry just nodded. Hermione shot Ginny a quick, apologetic look; she obviously hadn’t expected Ginny to have to drink.

 

After a tense couple of seconds, Astoria asked in a tiny voice. “I suppose it doesn’t count if you’ve only had a Dark Arts spell used _on_ you?”

 

She and Daphne shared a very sad look. Harry felt his heart twist sharply, but he also saw the moment for the opportunity it was. “I think we can drink to that as well...everyone can refill their glasses and then anyone who’s had one used on them can drink.”

 

Everyone who had drank filled up their glasses, then very solemnly – one-by-one, starting with Harry, then Blaise, then on around the circle and ending with Pansy who was on Harry’s other side – every single one of their group drank. Harry’s throat felt tight; it was horrible that all of them – as young as they were – had shared this. But it was a moment that, for the two groups who were still separate in so many ways, was deeply bonding. In this, they were the same. They had all shared this, awful as it was, and despite their differences this joined them together. In those moments, as they silently drank to something no child should go through, they were united by their grief and pain.

 

There was a long moment of silence after Pansy finished her shot, then Parvati awkwardly cleared her throat and gestured towards the now-empty glasses. “Well...fill them up, right?” Everyone did, then she flicked her eyes to Blaise before saying. “Never have I ever suggested a threesome to someone on a first date.”

 

There was a pause, then Blaise drank. This time, however, he was frowning at Parvati. “Honestly. You two ought to have been flattered. It was intended as a compliment...I couldn’t decide which of you was prettier, so I thought I’d try for you both. It’s been six months. Let it go.”

 

Harry blinked, stunned, looking between the two as Blaise crossly filled his glass again, adding a bit snippily. “I’m beginning to think you lot are _trying_ to paint me in a black light in front of Epi, though I cannot fathom why.” Looking upset, he added. “Everyone is entitled to a fresh start at least once, or so I would think.”

 

Harry felt everything in him go soft at the vulnerable, unhappy look on Blaise’s gorgeous face and reached out, twining their fingers together as he said. “I don’t care what you did in the past. It’s the past. What matters is us, now.”

 

Blaise smiled at Harry, golden-green eyes warm. He gave Harry’s hand a firm squeeze, then said. “Thank you, Epi. That means more to me than I can explain.”

 

Harry flushed, feeling Draco’s eyes on the two of them. He wondered if Draco’s story with Blaise, whatever it was, explained the horrible way Draco reacted to him and Blaise. Harry figured it probably would...he just didn’t know what _it_ was.

 

Padma cleared her throat, then said. “At the risk of being accused of being in on some sort of conspiracy against you, Blaise...” The Ravenclaw twin smiled frostily and said. “Never have I ever been smacked for being a complete pervert.”

 

Much to everyone’s amusement, Blaise was _not_ the only one to drink. Ron and Pansy both drank as well. It wouldn’t have been as funny if it hadn’t been _Pansy_ drinking. She shrugged, looking nonplussed, and gestured to Draco. “He doesn’t always appreciate my commentary on things.”

 

“Because you say things that shouldn’t be said!” Draco hissed, his cheeks suffused with color as he remembered the incident in question: Pansy had gotten more than a little descriptive about what, exactly, she thought he ought to do to the person he liked. “If you weren’t such a...a brazen hussy...maybe I wouldn’t need to smack you into silence!”

 

“A brazen hussy?” Pansy considered that for a moment, then grinned. “Oh, I _like_ that. Where the hell did that come from?”

 

Draco’s cheeks flushed darker and he mumbled something about his mother and her friends, and something about tea parties. Harry didn’t get it, but Pansy must have because she laughed and rolled her eyes. “Makes sense, darling.”

 

Pansy, Ron, and Blaise refilled their glasses, then Neville cleared his throat. He looked nervous, but determined. “Never have I ever kissed a Slytherin.” He turned his head, locking gazes with Pansy, and added. “But I’ve thought about it.”

 

“Oh...” Pansy flushed, then smiled widely even as she reached for her own glass. “Well...that’s something I’d be willing to help you with. You know...if you’d like.”

 

She drained her glass, then giggled as all of her fellow Slytherins did the same. “Well, we do like to stick together...”

 

Ginny raised her glass, drinking it quickly, then shrugged. “What? There was mistletoe. It happens.”

 

Parvati drank as well, making a face. “It was a mistake; one I didn’t repeat.”

 

Harry drank, having kissed Blaise quite a few times that night, and shared a small smile with the boy in question. Hermione, Ron, Neville, Luna, and Padma’s drinks remained untouched.

 

After a few seconds, Neville took a deep breath, leaned in and kissed Pansy flush on the mouth, then sat back and downed his shot. When everyone gaped at him, he said. “Hermione and Zabini both drank on their turns.”

 

Harry couldn’t help it; he started giggling. Soon everyone else had joined in the laughter. Pansy smirked and settled herself against Neville’s side, quite pleased with the turn the night had taken. She mentally thanked Epitome for befriending the Gryffindor and inviting him to his party. She would never have had the courage to approach her crush, but Epi had made it so that Neville – who _was_ brave – could see her as something other than an evil Slytherin. She would _always_ be grateful to him for giving her this chance; this possibility.

 

With crushes running through her mind, when everyone had filled their glasses again she said. “Never have I ever had a crush on someone my father tried to kill.”

 

There was a moment where everyone just blinked, sort of confused. It was an odd thing to say, even for a Slytherin. Even for _Pansy._ Then, though he was clearly not pleased about it, Draco drank.

 

Ginny peered at him around Luna, looking a bit confused. “Erm, Draco...you don’t...I mean, it’s not _me_ , is it? Because I don’t really think of you that way. Not that you aren’t attractive, but...”

 

“It’s not you.” Draco bit out from between his teeth, looking furious. “I’m _gay_. And who it is isn’t any of your business. It isn’t _anyone’s_ business!”

 

Ron was studying Draco suspiciously. “Hey...you know who your dad has tried to kill a whole lot of times, Malfoy?”

 

“Don’t you even _think_ it, Weasley!” Draco shouted, turning on Ron with a fury usually reserved for people who said bad things about Narcissa. “Don’t you _even dare._ ” Taking a deep breath, he added in a bit calmer tone. “My father has tried to kill more people than you can imagine.”

 

Daphne made a small sound, something akin to grief and a little bit of horror, then whispered. “I can’t believe you just said that!”

 

Draco gave her a cross look. “You’re _kidding_ , right? I’m hardly going to feign innocence on Father’s behalf in front of you lot, who know better! And Potter’s lot _certainly_ knows better. So what’s the point? Lying is only beneficial when it’s believable. It would be a waste of time right now.”

 

Harry frowned at Draco, then asked. “So you’re saying you had a crush on someone your father just _happened_ to try to kill?” He was thinking of Pansy’s assertion that Draco liked a Gryffindor and was now considering which one it might be. But truthfully, Lucius _had_ tried to kill a lot of people. “Seems more like he tried to kill someone you knew. Like a schoolmate or family friend...”

 

Ron was back to looking suspicious. “I’m still saying I think it’s...”

 

“Shut up!” Draco screeched, shrill and distressed. “God, Weasley, for once in your life, could you bloody-well shut up?” He glared at Pansy, snapping. “I do not know how I will _ever_ forgive you for doing that, Pansy. It was unnecessary.”

 

Pansy made a noise of distress, straightening away from Neville as Draco got to his feet and stormed towards the door. “Draco, wait! I didn’t mean to, I just...” The door to Harry’s bedroom slammed and Pansy winced, looking miserable. “Oh, damn.”

 

Harry didn’t know why, but he was on his feet in an instant, saying. “I’ll go after him. You lot can keep playing, or move on to another game, or whatever. I just...I’ll talk to him. Excuse me.”

  
Then, before anyone could protest or offer to go in his place, Harry was out the door after Draco.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

When Harry finally found Draco, it was in the portrait gallery. Harry frequented the place, but hadn’t immediately thought to look for Draco there. He’d wasted about twenty minutes searching random rooms before remembering Tipsy. The elf had happily informed him of the whereabouts of each of his guests; sometimes, house elves really were invaluable. Draco was sitting in front of Anathema’s portrait, staring up at it – and its occupant – with a funny look on his face.

 

Harry walked over and sat down on the bench next to Draco, not saying anything yet. Instead, he glanced up at the portrait and smiled. “Hey, Ana. How’re you today?”

 

“Well enough, Epi, considering I’m still dead.” Anathema smirked, sucking on his cigarette, and nodded at the blonde beside Harry. “Who’s the friend and why does he look like someone smacked him in the head with a brick?”

 

Harry flicked his eyes to Draco, then said softly. “This is Draco Malfoy; he’s related to Arcturus. Er, distantly. Arcturus’ younger brother, Cygnus, was Draco’s great-great-grandfather.” Harry had been diligently learning Pureblood family histories from Eileen; she felt it was _‘only proper’_ that he know who was related to whom, and how.

 

“And the look on his face?” Ana asked, curiosity etched into every line of his pretty face. When Harry shrugged, he demanded. “Tell me, Draco, why you’ve just been staring at me.”

 

“You just...” Draco flicked his eyes to Harry, then back to Anathema. “You look so much alike. It’s a bit unnerving. And you’re in Epi’s room...”

 

“You mean Epitome is in _my_ room.” Ana corrected, rolling his eyes and stretching his lithe, gorgeous frame out across the chaise, baring several inches of flat, toned stomach as his shirt rode up. “It was mine long before it was ever his, you know.”

 

Draco cleared his throat, looking uncomfortable, but nodded. “Yes, of course.” He glanced away from the portrait, shifting in his seat, and mumbled. “I need a fag...”

 

Ana laughed, low and throaty, and purred. “I’d offer you mine, luv, but it wouldn’t do you much good as you’re not a portrait.”

 

Draco stood up and walked away, heading for the far end of the gallery and the French doors that led to a balcony above the gardens. Harry frowned after him, saying mostly to himself. “He’s so impossible...I doubt I’ll _ever_ understand him!”

 

“Poor thing has it bad.” Ana made a sympathetic sound, his lips pursing in a pitying moue before he added in an odd tone. “Shouldn’t you follow him?”

 

“What?” Harry glanced at Ana, then blinked in surprise before nodding. “Oh...yes, I suppose. Er...it was nice talking to you. I’ll, ah...I’ll come see you in a day or two.”

 

Ana nodded, watching as Epitome hurried off after Draco. History, he thought, often repeated itself...and Draco looked very much like Arcturus had when he was young. Oh, there were differences. Draco’s hair was white-blonde, while Arcturus had hair as black as night. Draco was shorter; slimmer; more petite and delicate. Arcturus had been tall, muscular...able to carry Anathema around. But his face...those pointed, aristocratic features...that was Arcturus’ face. Those sharp, crafty silver eyes that darkened with lust when looking at him...that was Arcturus as well. And if young Draco looked like Arcturus...well, Epi certainly looked like Ana. Perhaps, if there was any justice to destiny, then Epi would notice the way Draco looked at him and the two could be together.

 

Ana found himself wishing, most heartily, for that to be the case. He had never gotten to give Arcturus a child; never gotten to see what a baby carrying their combined genes would look like. But if Epi and Draco worked out...well. It wouldn’t be the same, but at least he would have their child’s face to fuel his dreams through the lonely years he continued to spend _without_ Arcturus. It would be enough.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Harry stepped out into the hot, humid night air, blinking slowly several times as he waited for his eyes to adjust. The gallery had been brightly lit, despite the late (or early, depending on one’s viewpoint) hour, but the balcony above the garden was dark. The moon was less than half-full, though it was growing, and the tiny pinpricks of light that were the millions of stars above them didn’t seem to provide much illumination at all. There were a handful of lanterns and fairy lights down below, in the garden, but up on the balcony there was nothing.   

 

Nothing, save for the glowing red tip of the cigarette that dangled carelessly from pale, slim fingers. It was nothing new to Harry; he’d seen Draco smoke many times over the summer. For some reason, though, it seemed _different_ tonight. Harry couldn’t see Draco’s face in the dark; the blonde was leaning against the balcony railing, deep in the shadows cast by the Manor’s high walls. He took a hesitant step closer, drawn inexorably to Draco just as he always had been. Once it had been for fighting; recently for friendship. But this – _this_ – felt somehow new; strange. There was a tension in the air – a crackling, living thing – that Harry had no words for; no way to define.

 

He stopped a few feet from Draco, eyes trying in vain to pierce the veil of darkness surrounding the petite boy. He could _feel_ Draco’s eyes on him, though he still couldn’t see them. That aristocratic hand rose, bringing the cigarette to his lips, and Draco inhaled deeply. The tip flared brighter, for just a moment, glowing red and illuminating Draco’s lips – pursed around the filter; sucking – and his pointed chin, his delicate jaw, his hollowed-cheeks. His eyes were cast in deeper shadow, but Harry could tell they were locked on him. He wondered if Draco could see better in the dark than he could.

 

“Are...you okay?” He asked, feeling suddenly unsteady. It was as though the relatively even ground he’d found with Draco had been shifted; some unseen force roiling it beneath him, making it tip and tilt crazily, leaving Harry feeling unsure and wrong-footed. “I don’t really get what that was all about, back in my room, but...”

 

“It’s not important.” Draco rasped before blowing out a long stream of smoke, his hand casually flicking ash from the end of his cigarette with the practiced sort of ease only chain smokers could manage. “I don’t really want to talk about it. It’s in the past, anyway...nothing worth dwelling on.”

 

Harry wanted to press the issue, but he didn’t. That was his Gryffindor curiosity rearing its head and he knew that it wouldn’t go over well with Draco. Not at all. “I’m sorry you’re upset, anyway.” Harry finally said, taking a step closer though he wasn’t sure why. “And if you want to talk...about any of it...I’m always here for you.”

 

Draco made a small sound, halfway between disbelief and amusement, and dropped his cigarette to the ground. The heel of his black boot came down on it, grinding down hard, smearing ash and embers and burning paper and tobacco across the balcony’s tiled floor. “You’re...Merlin, you’re something else, Epitome.” There was a bite to Draco’s voice that Harry didn’t understand. A moment later it was gone and Draco just sounded weary. “Could you show me to another room? I’ve got no desire to be near Pansy just at the moment and I’m exhausted.”

 

Harry nodded and led the way back inside, winding through the corridors and passageways he’d learned the last few weeks. He led Draco to a room near his own; just a few doors down the hall, in fact. It was done in black and silver and soft, shimmering blue. Draco stepped in with a quiet sigh of approval and Harry had to swallow hard against a sudden rush of desire. _That_ was new. He liked Draco, of course, but he’d never before _wanted_ Draco. But as the smaller teen toed off his dragonhide boots before flopping back on the bed, he just looked so... _hot._

 

Harry shook his head to clear it; he’d clearly had too much to drink. But the head-shake didn’t help. Draco was sprawled across the blue-and-black bed, white-blonde hair fanning out over a black square on the checkered comforter. His nimble fingers were unlacing the front of his leather pants and Harry sucked in a sharp breath as Draco shimmied out of them, revealing incredibly short, incredibly tight, black silk boxers and an inordinate amount of pale, muscled leg. Harry couldn’t help wondering how someone as short as Draco had _so much_ leg.

 

Draco sighed again, stretching, arms over his head, legs half-off the bed, toes flexing as his hands clenched in the comforter above him. The slinky, shimmering silver fabric of his shirt clung to his chest and shoulders, shifting up enticingly to bare his smooth, slightly-concave stomach and the sharp ridges of his hipbones. Harry shifted backwards towards the door, stumbling a little due to his sudden decrease in brain function. This wasn’t right. Draco was his _friend._ Someone he cared about, but not _like that._ He was dating Blaise, for fuck’s sake. Somehow, none of those facts made Draco any less gorgeous.

 

Suddenly those grey eyes opened, soft and light as a rain cloud backlit by the sun, and Draco murmured sleepily. “You could stay...if you wanted.”

 

Harry opened his mouth to say no. His brain was screaming about Blaise, and the other guests, and not crossing lines. But his hands were tugging off his own slinky, shimmering shirt – a soft lavender color – and his feet were carrying him closer to the bed. He dropped the shirt onto the floor, then deftly unfastened his boots, kicking them off. He considered shedding his own leather pants – they wouldn’t be comfortable to sleep in – but unlike Draco, he was commando beneath them. So they stayed on as he climbed onto the bed, bare-chested, beside Draco.

 

Instantly, Draco turned towards him, curling around him and making soft sounds in the back of his throat reminiscent of a kitten. Harry held his breath for several long moments as Draco settled in, legs tangled with Harry’s, one arm thrown over Harry’s waist, and his head resting in the center of Harry’s chest. It was only seconds later that Draco’s breathing went deep and even. Harry forced himself to breath as well, trying to match pace with Draco. His heart thundered loudly in his ears as he closed his eyes and tried to tell himself that this was no different than Astoria snuggling up on his lap to sleep.

 

Somehow, though it took much longer than it should have, Harry finally managed to fall asleep. If asked he would have denied it, but in the end it was the heat from Draco’s body pressed along the length of his own and Draco’s soft, rhythmic breaths that finally lulled him into dreams.

  
Morning would come...until then, Harry’s sleeping mind savored what his conscious brain wasn’t yet ready to accept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay; reasons why this is one of my favorite chapters:
> 
> 1) Explanation of house elf behavior! House elves are - from a mythological perspective - brownies. Freeing them is a bad thing for them. I knew from book 2 (which I read when I was 11) that they were brownies and I loved the chance to explore that at last.
> 
> 2) Everyone meeting and working to find common ground, outside of their House boundaries. It was so much fun to unite the two groups; seriously.
> 
> 3) The drinking game. I've never been a big drinker - even at parties - but I love "Never Have I Ever" more than pretty much any other game. This was a labor of love for me. My alpha/beta team of readers sat in a gdoc with me for hours, making a seating chart for the kids and decided who would say what and who would drink to each statement. It was confusing, and exhausting, and _so much fun_. Especially Ron drinking to Astoria's sibling statement.
> 
> I do actually plan to do an "outtake" fic at some point, with several "missing" scenes as the chapters. And Ron's sibling moment will be one of them. It is both as innocent (on Ron's part) and far less so (on his brother's part) than Ron seems to think, lol.
> 
> 4) Draco smoking. I adore smoker!Draco. Too much for words. <3
> 
> Hope everyone liked this chapter; reviews make me SO happy!!! ~ LS


	6. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More fic! I'm currently working on chapter 14, where things are _really_ getting interesting. Basically, whenever I make a decent bit of progress, I'm giving you lot another chapter. This chapter is for finishing up chapter 13 and working out some plot-issues for the rest of the storyline.
> 
> This chapter is a really fantastic one, in terms of giving us some Harry-Severus face-time, which is always so much fun, and which I am really trying not to neglect. And it gives our poor, clueless Harry his first proper nudge in Draco's direction, which is fabulous. ^_^ 
> 
> Remember that comments make my day; all of the effort I put into a story - especially one as lengthy and detailed as this one - really seems worth it each time I get a review. Happy reading! ~ LS

Harry’s mind swam slowly towards consciousness, a low groan building in his throat before he was even fully awake. His head was _pounding._ He didn’t think he’d been this hungover since his _actual_ birthday. Which when you compounded what he’d had at the club with the stupid drinking game wasn’t all that surprising. He shifted, eyes still closed, and stiffened when he realized someone was wrapped around him. It was only a moment later that memories from the night before slammed into place and he relaxed. It was just Draco, curled around him and probably still sleeping.

 

Harry opened his eyes slowly and breathed a sigh of relief; the room’s thick curtains were still drawn and the room was only dimly lit. Just as he was trying to slide out from under Draco’s clinging form, the door slowly eased open. Harry froze, relaxing only when ‘Ria stuck her head in. He raised one finger to his lips, pleading with her for silence. Her blue eyes widened, but she nodded. She glanced back out into the hallway, gestured to Merlin-only-knew-who, whispered something to them, and then turned back to Harry with a raised eyebrow.

 

Harry finished sliding out from under the sleeping blonde and tip-toed across the room. He shooed ‘Ria back and slipped through the door, out into the hallway. Then he held up a finger to ask for a moment and snapped his fingers. He winced at the sound Tipsy made when she appeared.

 

“Hey, Tipsy.” He greeted her, smiling through the pain lancing his head and the rolling nausea. “Any chance you can do something about my clothes?”

 

Tipsy smiled and with a quick snap of her fingers Harry was wearing jeans, a green tee-shirt, and clean socks. “Tipsy is happy to be helping, Master Epi. Master Severus said to be telling you potions is to be waiting in the dining room for Master Epi and his guests.”

 

“Oh thank Merlin.” Harry breathed reverently. Having a Potion Master for a father was lovely when said-father was willing to provide one with Hangover Cures. “Thank you, Tipsy. You can go.”

 

Tipsy vanished with another crack and Harry turned to raise an eyebrow at Astoria. “Okay, little one. You can badger me on the way to the dining room. I need a Hangover Cure _now.”_

 

“Mhmmm…” ‘Ria’s knowing little hum was something he was quite familiar with and, even through the pain in his head, it made him smile. “You didn’t come back to the room last night.”

 

“Er, yeah. No. I know.” Harry shrugged, wishing the blush he could feel would go away. He didn’t have any _reason_ to be blushing. Nothing had happened the night before. “I fell asleep with Draco after we talked…he didn’t want to be around Pansy, so…”

 

“Uh-huh.” ‘Ria shot him a questioning glance as they walked slowly down a flight of stairs. “He was wrapped around you pretty good, Epi. Do you…do you like him?”

 

“Of course I like him. He’s my friend.” Harry deliberately tried to avoid the question, but ‘Ria just looked at him and raised both eyebrows. Sighing, Harry shrugged. “I don’t know, okay? I never really thought about it before. He’s gorgeous, of course. I’d have to be blind not to notice that. But that’s not…I mean, it doesn’t mean…” Harry paused, then shrugged and said. “I’m dating Blaise.”

 

‘Ria nodded, acknowledging Harry’s words, then said pointedly. “Okay, so you’re dating Blaise. That doesn’t mean you can’t _like_ Draco.” Her emphasis on the word ‘like’ was adorable and made Harry smile again. “I just…I think, maybe…well, maybe he _likes_ you. And I guess, I dunno, I just don’t want to see him get hurt. So don’t…don’t go making him think you like him if you don’t.” She glanced at him, clearly worried, and added. “Okay?”

 

Harry laughed, shaking his head. “I don’t think Draco likes me like that, ‘Ria. He seems to barely tolerate me at least half the time.” Still seeing the worry on her face, he nudged her with his shoulder as they walked up to the dining room doors. “But fine. I promise not to make Draco think I like him if I don’t. All better now?”

 

“Much.” ‘Ria agreed as she opened one of the doors. “Thank you.”

 

Inside, Hermione was already eating. She wasn’t the only one, either. Neville, Ginny, and Pansy were all sitting there as well. Pansy and Ginny both had empty potion vials next to their plates, revealing that they had both consumed enough alcohol the night before to warrant a Hangover Cure. The sideboard was covered in a vast selection of breakfast foods, just as always, and the table was set with a total of fourteen places, minus the plates which were on the sideboard for easy filling. One place for Harry and each of his friends, and one for his father. Harry grinned when he realized the centerpiece for the table was a basket containing eleven vials of Hangover Cure.

 

Harry went right for the basket, plucking a vial out and drinking it down in one go. He closed his eyes as it felt like someone was pouring cold water inside his head, where it cooled and soothed all of the hot, aching places. When the sensation faded Harry sighed in relief, then smiled at his friends. “Everyone okay this morning?”

 

“Oh, yes.” Pansy enthused, looking glowingly happy as she ate. “I love your father, Epi. I can’t believe he actually provided Hangover Cure for us all! That’s like…wow.”

 

Harry grinned and moved towards the sideboard, where Astoria was filling a plate for herself. “Dad’s a wonder sometimes.” He agreed as he loaded up his own plate. “Where’s everyone else?”

 

“Bemoaning their hangovers.” Hermione said, rolling her eyes. “We didn’t know about the cures until we came down, so I think they’re going to be up there for a while.”

 

“Nah; I’ll send Tipsy for them.” Harry said as he sat down.

 

He was in his usual seat, to the left of the head of the table – which was his father’s normal seat – and Hermione was across from him. Ginny was next to Hermione, then Neville, then Pansy. ‘Ria sat down next to Harry, digging right in to her food.

 

Harry snapped his fingers, summoning Tipsy again. “Sorry to be a bother.” Harry told her, giving her a charming smile. “Would you mind popping up to my room and letting everyone know Dad put Hangover Cure on the table down here?”

 

“Tipsy is already having done this, Master Epi.” She said, blue eyes wide and shining. “Master Epi’s guests is coming down to be eating right away! Master Draco asked for one to be brought right to him, so Tipsy is to be taking him one now.”

 

“You didn’t wake up Draco, did you?” Harry asked, instantly concerned.

 

“No, Master Epi.” Tipsy shook her head so hard her big ears flapped loudly. “Master Draco is up when Tipsy checked.”

 

Harry nodded, though he wondered what had woken Draco up. The blonde had seemed to be sleeping soundly when he’d left. “Oh. Well, that’s fine then. Thank you.”

 

Tipsy smiled and curtseyed before disappearing with a loud crack, one of the vials vanishing with her as she delivered it to Draco. Everyone went back to eating and, for a few minutes, the only sounds were cutlery on glass plates and chewing and the like. Then, there was the sound of shuffling footsteps and quiet talking and soft, miserable groans. Harry watched in amusement as his friends filed into the room, all reaching eagerly for potions from the basket. Draco was the only one still missing; Harry wondered where he was.

 

Just as the others finished filling their plates, Draco walked into the room. He looked like he had taken the time to shower before coming down. Everyone else – except Harry, who Tipsy had dressed – was still in their pajamas. Draco, however, was wearing black jeans that looked painted on and a white tee-shirt that looked completely perfect. Harry swallowed hard and dropped his eyes back to his plate, ignoring the way ‘Ria’s foot nudged his leg.

 

He sensed someone to his right and looked up to see Blaise about to sit beside him. Without thinking, Harry said. “You can’t sit there.” Blaise froze, then turned and stared at Harry, who added quickly. “I’m sorry; that’s Dad’s seat.”

 

Immediately, ‘Ria started to gather her plate and place-setting. “Oh, I’ll move so he can sit here. I don’t mind…”

 

“No.” Harry said, then wondered why he was saying it. He just didn’t see the point in ‘Ria having to move her whole place to another spot. Very aware of everyone’s eyes on him, Harry looked up at Blaise and said softly. “We can sit apart, right Blaise? It’s hardly going to kill us.”

 

Blaise’s mouth tightened for a moment, then he smiled. “Of course, Epi. We don’t need to be together every second of the day, after all.”

 

Shifting his plate to one hand, Blaise leaned down for a kiss. Harry tipped his face up, accepting it, wondering why he felt so uncomfortable all of a sudden. “Thank you.” Harry said when Blaise straightened again and moved to take the seat on the other side of Daphne, who was next to ‘Ria. “I appreciate it.”

 

“It’s fine, Epi.” Blaise waved off his gratitude like it was nothing. “I understand not wanting to rearrange the whole table. And, of course, you’re right, as I said. There’s no need to live in each other’s pockets simply because we’re dating.”

 

Draco was the only one not sitting now – there was an empty seat beside Pansy saved for him, with Padma on the other side of it – as he was still getting food. Then, Severus walked in. He paused for a moment, just inside the doorway, at the sight of so many teenagers in his dining room. Then he took a moment to adjust to the mixing of Slytherins and other Houses, stunned that they weren’t sitting in two separate groups as he’d expected them to be. On the right-hand side of Severus’ seat were Hermione, Ginny, Neville, Pansy, an empty seat he assumed would be Draco’s, Padma, and Parvati. To the left, were Harry, Astoria, Daphne, Blaise, Ron, and Luna.

 

Bemused by his son’s ability to overcome seemingly _any_ obstacle, Severus walked up Harry’s side of the table, stopping beside his son. “Where’s your hair tie?” He asked, even as he carded his fingers through his son’s ever-growing hair. “These days you always have it pulled back.”

 

“Huh.” Harry blinked, stunned to realize his hair was down. He hadn’t even noticed, in the midst of his hangover and then eating. “I don’t know. I don’t remember taking it down last night…”

 

Severus sat just as Draco circled around behind his chair. He wondered what his godson was doing, since the sideboard was on the same side of the table as Draco’s seat, but the answer came a moment later when something small, round, and black was dropped beside Harry’s plate. It was, Severus realized instantly, Harry’s hair elastic. Harry stared at it in silence for a moment, then looked up at Draco.

 

“It was on the bed this morning.” Draco explained, and there was a strange look on his face as he said it that Harry wished he understood. “I figured you’d want it back and probably wouldn’t think to look in _my_ room for it. It must have fallen out while we were sleeping.”

 

Harry felt his cheeks heat up and he silently cursed his fair skin. “R-right...” Harry stammered as he picked the hair tie up, slipping it onto his wrist. “Thanks. I lose them all the time, you know.”

 

“Mmmm...” Draco hummed non-committally, then reached out with the hand not holding his plate and tucked a strand of hair behind Harry’s ear. “You ought to leave it down now and then. It’s such a gorgeous color; it’s a shame to hide that by tying it back.”

 

Harry felt his face heat further and knew he must be nearly red, but he wasn’t sure why. He just nodded, unable to even speak, and looked down at his food. Severus watched with interest as Draco walked to his seat, noting the way Blaise followed Draco’s progress with narrowed eyes. As far as matches for his son went, Severus _much_ preferred his godson to Blaise Zabini. But he wouldn’t interfere; he would let Harry make his own choice. He would, however, be keeping a _very_ close eye on the situation to ensure that neither Harry, nor Draco, wound up hurt.

 

And he would talk to Harry about it, just as soon as his friends went home.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

The Slytherins and the Patil twins left first, since Harry and Severus would be escorting the others back to Grimmauld Place. As Blaise was leaving, he gave Harry a kiss that had him blushing and squirming away uncomfortably. It just wasn’t right, kissing like that _in front of his father._ “I’ll see you tomorrow, then?”  Blaise asked, seeming not to notice Harry’s discomfort.

 

“I’m afraid not, Zabini.” Severus drawled and his tone was far less friendly than Harry was used to hearing him direct at his Slytherin friends. “Epi and I will be spending his birthday together.” He paused a moment, then added. “And he will be less-available for the rest of the summer than he has been so far. We have things to attend to, I’m afraid, so you lot will have to get on without him.”

 

Severus flicked his eyes to his godson and added. “Draco, you are welcome to come by whenever Epi and I are here, though we’ll be gone with some regularity. As you know, my home is always open to you. Simply give Epi a call to see if we’re here or not.”

 

“Of course, Sev. I wouldn’t dream of dropping by unannounced.” Draco gave his godfather a quick hug, ignoring the gaping Gryffindors. “I’ll probably see you in a few days, then.”

 

When that group was gone, everyone else filed one-by-one into the Floo, with Severus going through first and Harry going through last. Harry stepped out and was immediately pulled into a hug that smelled like vanilla and sugar. “Hello, Mrs. Weasley.” He hugged back tightly.

 

“Well, happy early birthday, Epi!” Molly patted his cheek after releasing him, smiling widely before looking at Severus with concern. “My children behaved, didn’t they?”

 

“All of them behaved quite admirably.” Severus assured her, giving her a tight smile. “Especially considering they were in the presence of those they are not fond of.”

 

Seeing Molly’s confusion, Harry piped up. “My other friends. Apparently Slytherins don’t play well with others. At least, that’s what my friend Draco says.”

 

“Draco?” Arthur was the one who said the name, looking startled. “As in, Lucius Malfoy’s son?” He flicked a concerned glance at Severus. “Surely he’s not the best companion for your son, Severus?”

 

Severus rolled his eyes. “Given my role as a spy, and my position as Draco’s godfather, it would be viewed as highly suspect if Epi and Draco were _not_ on friendly terms, Arthur. Also, Draco is not his father.”

 

Molly frowned, looking concerned. “I understand that he’s not Lucius, Severus. But he’s hardly got the best track record.”

 

“Potter hardly has the best track record, either. Yet everyone constantly felt the need to remind me that he was not James.” Severus said pointedly, which had Harry fighting back a grin. Sirius growled, but Remus snorted. “The Slytherin students Epi is friends with are teenagers, Molly, not Death Eaters.”

 

“They weren’t bad at all.” Neville said quietly, earning him stunned looks from all of the adults. Neville flushed, but stood firm. “They were...well, a lot like the Gryffindors from school. I mean, they were just normal kids, you know? Like us.”

 

Molly studied his face, then looked to the others. One by one Hermione, Ginny, Luna, and even Ron nodded their agreement. “Well, that’s good enough for me.” Molly declared imperiously, hands on her hips. “If Ron can set aside past differences, then I think the rest of us can as well.”

 

Remus stepped up and clapped Harry on the shoulder. “Well, Epi, it seems you’ve managed the unimaginable. You’ve destroyed the House-boundaries that have been in place for over a thousand years. I don’t know how you did it, but you had Slytherins and Gryffindors in the same house overnight and there was no bloodshed.”

 

Harry smirked, then remembered something his father had said. Curious, he looked over at Severus and asked. “So why are we going to be out of the house from now on?”

 

Severus raised an eyebrow. “Finally caught up to that, did you?” Harry stuck out his tongue and Severus chuckled. “Albus has agreed that your recent... _mixed-alliances_...mean that you should join Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger in their training.”

 

“Wicked!” Harry did a fist-pumping, butt-wiggling dance, right there in front of everyone. “I was totally hoping I could start training again!” Catching his slip too late to backtrack, he hurriedly added. “I’ve missed it since I left Greece; Ardeth was a really intense teacher.”

 

“We’ll start Tuesday.” Sirius said, a stern look on his face. “I expect you to work hard. There’s no slacking off on _my_ time, Snape.”

 

Harry almost grinned at Sirius’ act, but instead just nodded. “I’ll work hard. Promise.”

 

Sirius grunted and Remus rolled his eyes before looking at Ron and Hermione. “You two are okay with Epi joining us, right?”

 

“Oh, well...” Hermione smiled faintly. “Of course. It will be strange, since we’ve only trained with Harry before, but I’m sure it will be fine. Is he joining us for _all_ of our training?”

 

“Yes.” Severus said immediately. “I specifically want him starting on his Animagi form as soon as possible; a raven is a particularly useful form and I’m eager for him to achieve it so I can teach him how to fly.”

 

“A raven?” Hermione asked, confused. “If he’s never done Animagi training before, how do you know he’s going to be a raven?”

 

Remus answered before anyone else could. “The Prince family – Severus’ family on his mother’s side – are always ravens. It’s a genetic trait. Severus is one himself. So Epi doesn’t need to use the spell to check his form like most people do.”

 

“Oh.” Hermione nodded. “Well, that’s useful, I suppose.” She smiled at Harry and added. “I guess we’ll be seeing more of you soon.”

 

Harry grinned and nodded. “I guess so.” He tipped his head curiously and asked. “Why don’t the rest of you train as well? I mean, why is it only Ron and Hermione, and not Ginny, Luna, and Neville?”

 

There was a pause, then Molly said stiffly. “I wouldn’t have wanted _any_ of them training, except that Ron and Hermione are so close to Harry. It unfortunately made them targets.”

 

Harry looked at her, then said softly. “I would think, direct targets or not, that you’d want them to be able to protect themselves as best as possible. What if someone went after Ron and got ahold of Ginny instead? If she doesn’t know how to fight them, she’s automatically vulnerable.”

 

This was an argument that Harry had tried several times, but Molly had never listened. He was hoping that, since it was now coming from an ‘outsider’, she would this time.

 

“You’re right.” Arthur was the one who spoke, starling his wife.

 

“But, Arthur...” She started to protest, looking stricken. “You can’t mean to have Ginny fighting!”

 

Arthur shook his head, taking Molly’s hand. “Of course not. But Epitome has a point. What if there’s an attack on the school, or on Hogsmeade? Or even on Diagon Alley when we’re school shopping? Or on the Hogwarts’ Express? We can’t keep her under lock and key forever. She needs to be able to protect herself, and to help protect those around her.”

 

“I’ll talk to Augusta and Xenophilius.” Sirius said, rolling his eyes. “See about getting you all set up to train for the rest of the summer. Didn’t realize I’d be having a whole class.”

 

“Perhaps _I_ could be of some assistance?”

 

The voice from the doorway was faintly-accented and drew everyone’s attention. Harry sucked in a sharp breath, stunned. He had, of course, been given a description of the man; he had to be able to recognize him on sight, after all. But the words hadn’t even come close to explaining the man himself; his presence was nearly overwhelming. He was 6’1” with long, curly black hair and deeply tan skin, with strange symbols tattooed in black ink on his cheekbones. His eyes were brown, with deep lines around them that spoke of long hours in a desert climate, squinting against the sun. That image was reinforced by his clothing.

 

He wore full desert clothing; what one would expect to see on an Egyptian. Which made sense, as the man _was_ Egyptian. Harry remembered seeing Bill in a similar outfit when he’d come back from a trip to speak to some allies he’d made while working there for Gringotts. The dark green pants and tunic-like shirt were loose and flowing, with a dark brown leather belt cinching the excess fabric at his waist. A wicked-looking array of blades was strapped to the man. Banding his forehead and covering most of his hair was a dark blue strip of cloth, wound around his head and neck. Harry knew it could be pulled up over his face to protect it in the event of a sandstorm.

 

On his one arm was a leather vambrace protecting his wrist; his other hand was protected up to his elbow by a thick leather glove. Perched on that arm was a gorgeous falcon, without the customary hood and jesses you’d expect to see on a bird of prey. With a little bounce of his arm, the falcon went soaring into the room, heading straight for Hedwig’s perch. The snowy owl studied the falcon for a moment, then seemed to accept its presence as she closed her eyes to go back to sleep. The falcon seemed to be watching everyone in the room suspiciously.

 

Taking a deep breath in preparation for what he was about to do – and praying someone had warned the man so he didn’t wind up stabbed – Harry rushed across the room, throwing himself into the newcomer’s arms with a happy squeal. “Ardeth!” He exclaimed, hugging the older man. “It’s so good to see you! Why didn’t anyone tell me you were here?”

 

Ardeth laughed, hugging Harry tightly around the waist and leaning down a little to say softly. “You must be Epitome.” When Harry nodded against his shoulder, he said louder. “It’s wonderful to see you again, wahedh segheyrh. How have you fared?”

 

Harry leaned back, grinning up at Ardeth. “I’ve been good. I’ve missed training, of course, but I’ve been making friends and getting to know my father.”

 

Ardeth nodded, releasing Harry and letting him step back. “As long as you are happy...” Harry nodded, still grinning, and Ardeth allowed the smallest smile in return. “Good. I am looking forward to teaching at Hogwarts this year. Helping with your friends’ training will get me ready to work with more than one student at a time. If, of course, your trainers are agreeable.”

 

“You’re always welcome to assist us, Ardeth.” Remus grinned and approached, hugging Ardeth who kissed each of Remus’ cheeks before bussing their mouths together lightly. “I’ve missed you. We’ve got a lot to catch up on!”

 

Sirius was instantly hovering at Remus’ side, one hand possessively in the small of his lover’s back. “I’m very eager to talk to you as well.” Sirius said. “I’ve heard quite a lot about your adventures.”

 

Ardeth inclined his head, the tiniest smile still curving his lips. “Of course. I have heard tales of you as well, Sirius Black. I believe we will get along very well.”

 

Severus cleared his throat, gaining everyone’s attention. “Well, obviously there’s plenty to do with planning and scheduling between now and Tuesday. So, if you’re all agreeable, Epitome and I will return home and see everyone then.”

 

“Oh, but…” Harry looked at Ardeth, then back at his father. “I thought I’d be able to spend some time with Ardeth…since he’s here and all.”

 

“You’ll see him on Tuesday.” Severus replied, softly but firmly. “We have some family matters to attend to, and I’d like to get them done before your training starts.”

 

Harry frowned, but nodded. “Okay.” He turned and gave Ardeth, Sirius, and Remus all hugs. “I’ll see you three on Tuesday to train, I guess.” Goodbyes to his friends were next, followed by goodbyes to Arthur and Molly. Then it was back through the Floo home, with Severus right behind him. Harry wondered what they had to do that was so important it couldn’t wait.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Harry sat down in the parlor, his legs curled up next to him on the sofa. Severus was sitting across from him in an armchair, staring broodingly at the empty fireplace. Harry kept half-expecting him to light it, just for the sake of having something to look at. His lips curved up for a moment at the thought, but the smile didn’t last long. He had no idea what was going on, but clearly something was wrong. Or at least something serious was going on. He hoped he hadn’t done anything to make Severus angry.

 

Suddenly unable to think of anything else, he cleared his throat nervously. “Er, Dad? I...I haven’t done anything wrong, have I? I mean, you’re not mad at me, right?”

 

“What?” Severus looked over at Harry and was hit full-force by the fear and worry in those vibrant green eyes. Given their history, and what Harry’s life must have been like with Petunia Evans-now-Dursley, it wasn’t an unreasonable thought but somehow Severus was hurt that Harry was still afraid of him. “I am not angry with you.” He muttered, unsure how to soothe Harry’s worry. “And even if I was, you would have nothing to fear from me. I’m hardly going to hex you or beat you.”

 

Harry swallowed hard and admitted softly. “I wasn’t worried about that. I’m used to being hit. Dudley loved beating me up. I was just...I mean, I thought that, if you were angry...if I’d done something wrong...that maybe you would...” Harry’s voice faded down to next to nothing as he said three words that stabbed at Severus’ heart. “...send me away.”

 

Severus was on his feet in an instant, crossing the room to Harry’s side. He was seated beside his son, yanking Harry into his arms, in a matter of seconds. “I would _never_ send you away.” Severus swore, unable to keep the intensity out of his voice as he made the vow. “You could do the worst thing imaginable and I wouldn’t turn my back on you, Epi. You are my son, and I will _always_ love you.”

 

Harry sniffled wetly, hiding his face in his father’s robes. In a muffled voice, he asked. “What’s the worst thing imaginable?”

 

Without hesitation, Severus deadpanned. “Marrying a Weasley.”

 

Harry laughed, lifting his tear-streaked face to grin at his father. “What, you don’t want Charlie as a son-in-law? He’s the only gay one, as far as I know...though the twins swing every which way”

 

Severus sighed in a much-put-upon manner and said mournfully. “I suppose if you married Charlie I would at least have easy access to rare dragon parts for potions.” He smirked and added. “Plus there would be a good possibility of you becoming a widower. Dragons are quite deadly, after all.”

 

Harry snorted, rolling his eyes, and Severus added seriously. “In truth, I would have to say it would be making the same mistake I made and joining the Dark Lord. But even if you were that incredibly stupid, I would still love you.”

 

“Oh.” Harry bit his lip, his eyes welling up again, and sniffed loudly. “Well. Okay then.” He gave a watery little laugh and asked. “So what’s with all the brooding and seriousness, then?”

 

“I wished to speak to you about Draco.” Severus said, smiling faintly when Harry snuggled back up against his chest. It was a bit odd, having a teenage son who was so affectionate, but Severus found he didn’t mind much at all. It helped make up for the years they’d lost.

 

“What about him?” Harry asked with a little yawn; he hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before and Severus was quite warm, which was nice since the house was always kept remarkably cold. “I think we’re getting along great, don’t you? S’kind of nice...”

 

Severus chuckled. “Yes, considering your past penchant for name calling, hexing, and fist-fights, I’d say you’re getting along remarkably well.” He paused, trying to think of how to phrase what he wanted to say, and finally spoke very thoughtfully. “I do wonder if you realize just how much Draco has grown to care about you. You have your history between you, but he does not. Have you thought about that?”

 

Harry yawned again, shrugging. “Yeah. I mean, I guess. I know it’s been harder for me than for him to accept each other, since I’ve had to get past stuff he doesn’t even know involved me.” He closed his eyes, listening to his father’s heartbeat beneath his head, and adding softly. “I dunno if he really likes me all that much, though. He seems to hate me half the time.”

 

“He doesn’t hate you.” Severus assured him. “If he hated you, he would not have bothered to get along with your other friends. He would have simply left.” Severus considered what to say for a moment, then finally settled on a single facet of the truth. “I believe Draco’s problem stems from your relationship with Mr. Zabini. The two do not seem to see eye-to-eye on that.”

 

“Mmmm...” Harry agreed, nodding slowly. “Yeah, I know. Draco thinks Blaise is a lying, cheating prat or something like that. I dunno what Blaise did to him, but it must have been bad.”

 

Severus frowned down at his son and asked curiously. “And yet you’re still willing to date him? Even though you’ve drawn conclusions about what sort of person Zabini is and what he might have done to Draco?”

 

Harry sighed, scrunching his nose up and rolling his eyes. “People change. I don’t think it’s fair to hold stuff he did in the past against him. Everyone other than Draco says he’s been really different with me. If I’m willing to give everyone else a clean slate, don’t I owe Blaise the same courtesy?”

 

Severus knew he had to tread cautiously, or risk pushing Harry into a full-fledged rebellion. “I know that people can change.” He agreed, taking great care with his words. “But not everyone does. I know Zabini’s mother. Arabella is...not the sort who should have been raising a child. As his Head of House, I have often worried about Zabini being raised with a woman known for a beauty so great seven men have married her despite each man dying mysteriously. He has always been...an unusually cold child.”

 

Harry bit his lip, lifting his head and opening his eyes to stare at his father. “If I accept that Draco isn’t his father, then isn’t it only fair to acknowledge that Blaise isn’t his mother?”

 

For a moment, Severus ground his teeth together in frustration. Harry was _so stubborn..._ rather like his mother, actually. “It is admirable that you seek to find the good in everyone.” Severus said, sighing softly when Harry rested his head back on his chest. “I simply want to make sure you are making an informed decision. I do not want to see you get hurt.” He paused, then added. “I also do not want to see Zabini hurt Draco because of you.”

 

“Why would Blaise hurt Draco?” Harry asked, instantly concerned. “They’re friends! I mean, you know...mostly.”

 

“You did not see the way Zabini looked at Draco over breakfast, when he returned your hair tie.” Severus explained as patiently as possible. “I do believe he misunderstood whatever may have occurred between yourself and Draco last night.”

 

Harry paled, his eyes flying open again as he sat bolt-upright on his father’s lap. “What?” He gasped, completely horrified. “No! What...why...why didn’t you _tell me?_ I...shit, I need to call Blaise and explain that nothing hap-pen-ed...” Harry slowed down on the last word, trailing off as a dull flush suffused his pale cheeks.

 

“Epi?” Severus asked softly, studying his son carefully. “What’s wrong?”

 

“I...nothing.” Harry blushed darker, dropping his eyes and twisting his hands together nervously. “I just...I fell asleep in Draco’s room is all. But he sort of...cuddled up to me. But we were pretty drunk and...and nothing _happened_. I just...don’t know how to explain it to Blaise. Why I got into bed with Draco, I mean. I don’t really know why myself...”

 

“Perhaps, before you say anything to anyone, you ought to figure that out.” Severus advised, rubbing the small of Harry’s back soothingly, coaxing him to put his head back down. When he had, Severus added in a low murmur. “It seems foolish to advance in any way when you are unsure of why you are where you are, and where you would like to end up.”

 

Harry nodded, yawning again. “Yeah, I guess. And it’s not like I’m going to see Blaise again until we’re back at school, so I’ve got time to figure out what to say.” His eyes closed and he all but purred as Severus continued rubbing his back in slow, soothing circles. “S’not cowardly, Daddy?” He asked sleepily, nuzzling into Severus’ chest. “To wait...”

 

“Not at all.” Severus reassured, keeping his voice soft as he felt Harry start to become dead weight. “Take your time, Epi. It’s only smart.”

 

Harry made a small sound of agreement in the back of his throat as he drifted off to sleep.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

It was strange, after so many years of shopping amidst the chaos of the Weasley family – and a month of shopping with a hoard of Slytherins – to be in Diagon Alley with only his father and Draco. Harry was a little annoyed with how much attention the three of them were getting, considering he was an unknown teenager at the moment. It wasn’t anywhere near as bad as being Harry Potter, of course, but still. It grated on his nerves to have people staring and pointing and whispering behind their hands.

                                                                                         

Harry was strangely sorry that school was starting up again. For the first time since he’d learned about Hogwarts, Harry was dreading the train ride to school. And not because people would be staring and pointing, either. He simply wasn’t ready for the summer to end. He didn’t know if everything would change, once he got to school and was officially Sorted. It was one thing for Ron and Hermione and the others to be friends with him when he _might_ be a Slytherin; he didn’t know how well that friendship would hold up under fire from the rest of the school once he actually _was_ a Slytherin. Not to mention once he was widely known as the son of Severus Snape.

 

So Harry didn’t _want_ to get on the Hogwarts Express in the morning. He wanted, at least for a little while longer, for things to continue on the way they were. He wasn’t sure he was ready to face the school yet. It was stupid, really, because as Epitome he didn’t have to bear people’s speculation in silence, trying not to let any emotion show. He could snap at them to mind their own business and it wouldn’t even make the papers, let alone be front-page news. So there wasn’t anything to worry about. Not _really_. Except, of course, losing half of his friends. And facing Slytherin House as a _member_. And seeing Blaise again. Right. Nothing at all to worry about...

 

Harry sighed, wishing Draco would hurry up and finish ordering his robes so they could go home and he could hide for a while. He’d ordered everything he needed in a fraction of the time it was taking Draco, which was ridiculous. How many sets of robes could one person possibly need?

 

He stared out the window, wondering if he could get away with meditating while he waited. It was part of his Animagi training. He was supposed to close his eyes and breathe, slowly shutting off thoughts, one by one, until all he was, was breath. No mouth to breathe through; no lungs to hold the air; just breath. When he could manage that – turning everything off, until all he was, was the act of breathing, then he would shift for the first time. Freed from what his body felt like, freed from all thought, his magic would reach out and rearrange him into his animal form. Once he’d managed it the first time, he would be able to focus on what it felt like to _be_ that other form to make the shift happen again.

 

Harry figured it was safe to practice now because he was complete pants at meditating and it would probably take him _months_ before he could do it the first time.

 

He had been breathing in and out, slowly and deeply, for several minutes when he was startled by a hand coming down on his shoulder. “Holy shit...Dad!” Harry gasped after jumping quite high and pressing a hand to his now-racing heart. “Merlin, cough or something! Don’t just sneak up on a bloke.”

 

Severus quirked an eyebrow and said softly. “I said your name three times, Epi.” Harry blinked, stunned, because he hadn’t heard Severus say _anything_ , and his father continued. “You were meditating...and doing a good job of it, I’d say, considering you didn’t hear me. Perhaps _in public_ is not the best place to be so...unawares, though.”

 

Harry nodded. “Yes, of course. I’m not normally very good at it, which is why I didn’t think it would be an issue. Is Draco done, then?”

 

“Not quite, but nearly.” Severus rolled his eyes, looking exasperated and clearly regretting his decision to invite Draco to shop with them. “I actually need to take a trip to Knockturn, and I don’t want you two along with me.”

 

Harry frowned, though it was almost more of a pout. “Why not? Draco was going to Knockturn with Lucius when he was _twelve._ It’s hardly as though anyone is going to attack us while you’re standing right there, you know. And no one even knows who I am.”

 

“I would like to keep it that way, at least amongst a certain crowd, for as long as possible.” Severus explained, continuing in a whisper. “Once it is known I have a son, the Dark Lord will wish to meet you. I have watched as Narcissa stalls him from meeting Draco for a year now, and each time she has barely convinced him to wait until Draco is older. I do not know if my persuasive abilities will be as good as a sobbing mother.”

 

“Oh.” Harry bit his lip, suddenly feeling a bit nauseated. It hadn’t occurred to him that he might have to meet Voldemort as Severus Snape’s son, and possibly be pressured about taking the Mark. It was a fear that most of the Slytherins lived with every day, though...and now it was his as well. “Right. Well, when Draco is done we’ll just go hang out at Fortescue’s until you’re finished with...whatever it is that you’re going to be doing.”

 

Severus carded a hand through Harry’s hair; it was his standard greeting and farewell to his son. He was thrilled Harry had taken Draco’s advice and was wearing it down more often. He adored touching the tangible proof that Harry was _his._ “Be careful, please. And remember that you don’t know anyone. Try not to slip, please.”

 

Harry smiled, knowing that Severus’ warning was his way of worrying. He gave his father a quick hug, promising. “I won’t run up to random people from school and act like I know them. Promise.”

 

Severus nodded and left Madam Malkins’ while Harry wandered back over to where Draco was apparently still getting fitted for things. “You’re _still_ not done?” Harry asked, unable to help the whine in his voice.

 

Draco turned, rolling his eyes at Harry. “Gay men are supposed to enjoy shopping.” He turned back to the mirror, making a small sound in the back of his throat before saying. “I just don’t know...the color isn’t quite what I had in mind...”

 

Harry moved closer, studying the winter-wear Draco had on. The outside of the cloak was as white as new-fallen snow, made of some sort of super-soft-looking suede. It was lined with what had to be the purest-black fur Harry had ever seen, and trimmed with fur in silvery-white. When Draco shifted, studying himself, Harry realized that the white suede was shot through with silver threads that caught the light like frost on glass. Under the cloak, Draco was wearing black leather pants that were tucked into knee-high white winter boots that were trimmed with more silvery-white fur and a white cashmere sweater. White suede gloves, shot through with the same ice-effect silver thread as the cloak and edged in more silvery-white fur, covered his slender hands.

 

Draco raised the cloak’s hood, still pouting at his own reflection. “I thought the fox fur would be more silver and less white...” Draco grumbled, a little line appearing between his eyebrows as his pout morphed into a frown of consternation. “I don’t know if all of this white is a good look on me...”

 

Harry swallowed hard, studying his former-rival. Draco’s pale skin and white-blonde hair combined with his wintery outfit made him look like...like some sort of winter fairy. A rather princely sort of fairy, of course. In fact, Harry thought that if the mythical figure of Jack Frost had been a teenager and rather wealthy – or at least well-dressed – then he’d have looked exactly like Draco did just then. All winter-white and fur and cold, haughty beauty. Dressed in silvered-white and contrast-black, Draco looked like he was made of shadow and ice; he was _breathtaking_.

 

Swallowing again in an attempt to moisten his mouth, which suddenly felt bone-dry, he managed to say hoarsely. “I think it’s a great look on you.”

 

Draco waved a dismissive hand, clearly not paying Harry much mind. Absently, he said. “You just want me to be done shopping, but I need my winter set to be _perfect_ since it’s what I’ll wear to Hogsmeade once it gets cold _and_ it’s what I’ll wear over Christmas break.”

 

“Draco...” Harry’s silky voice drew Draco’s full attention; there was something in his tone – and in the look in those green eyes – that had Draco’s own eyes widening. “You look perfect. Honestly.”

 

Draco stared at Harry for a moment, then nodded slowly. “I...yes, okay. Thank you, Epi.” He smiled, letting his lashes drop halfway to shield his eyes before peering at the other teen from under them. “Let me just change and we can go.”

 

“Okay.” Harry agreed, his voice coming out strangled; the way Draco was looking at him was making his stomach twist in funny ways. “Er...I told Dad we’d wait for him at Fortescue’s...I hope that’s okay.”

 

A smile curved Draco’s lips, growing until it was all teeth and wickedness. “Ice cream sounds perfect.” Draco purred and something about his tone made Harry instantly wary.

 

Before he could dwell on it too much, Draco vanished into the dressing room. Harry grinned as he heard Madam Malkin mutter _‘Finally!’_ as Draco called through the curtain that he was finished shopping and would need everything sent to the Manor immediately. Anything that wouldn’t be ready before 8AM the following day was to be sent directly to Hogwarts.

 

By the time Draco came out of the dressing room – wearing simple black slacks and a short-sleeved white button-up once more – Harry had mostly managed to get his thoughts and breathing under control. Draco arranged payment and delivery with Madam Malkin quickly and efficiently, and then they were out of the shop and heading up Diagon Alley. Without Severus’ presence, Harry realized fewer people were pointing or staring. Apparently Draco Malfoy and an unknown teenage boy didn’t garner anywhere near as much attention as Severus Snape, Draco Malfoy, and an unknown teenage boy. Or maybe Draco just didn’t attract as much attention as Severus.

 

When they got to Fortescue’s, Harry ordered the same thing he always ordered, grateful Draco wouldn’t know it was Harry Potter’s favorite ice cream the way Ron and Hermione would have. The girl working behind the counter popped her gum as she handed him the dish of chocolate raspberry ice cream, topped with crushed nuts. Draco stepped up to order next.

 

“A vanilla sundae.” Draco drawled, eyes gleaming as he ordered.

 

Harry snorted, since Draco _always_ ordered vanilla ice cream. “Really? Vanilla again?” Not thinking about how it would sound, he added. “Doesn’t that get a little...boring?”

 

Draco grinned at him. “Not if you’re doing it right.” He turned back as the shop girl cracked up. Harry blushed a moment later, catching up to the innuendo, and Draco finished ordering. “Fudge, whipped cream, crushed nuts, and...”

 

“And a mint maraschino cherry.” The girl finished, still laughing, giving her long brown hair a little toss over her pale shoulder. “If I don’t know your order by now, Draco, there’s a problem. Where’s everyone else?”

 

“It’s just me and Epi today.” Draco said smoothly, watching as she made his ice cream. “Ready to go back to school, Lori?”

 

“Ugh, no.” The former-Ravenclaw groaned. “I’d just about _kill_ to be back at Hogwarts. Uni is killer, you know?” She slid Draco’s dish across the counter and added. “Plus I miss being at a magical school. But my parents _insisted_ I do proper muggle uni, because Mum’s whole family is a bunch of PhD’s.”

 

Draco laughed, taking his ice cream and the long-handled silver spoon. “Well, maybe you can stop by for one of my Quidditch matches. Then you could hang out afterwards. See some of us again. I know I’m not the only one who misses you. You’re the best tutor I’ve ever had.”

 

Lori laughed again, reaching over the counter to tap Draco lightly on the nose. Three years older than him, she’d had a fondness for him since he was a Second Year and so full of himself his head ought to have swollen up and popped. “Maybe I will. I’ll try to get away for your match against Ravenclaw, so I can cheer for my old House to stomp you into the ground. Teach you a touch of humility.”

 

“Slytherin will win easily this year.” Draco drawled, grinning. “The papers said a few days ago that Potter’s gone off somewhere, out of the country, and Epi here flies like he was born on a broom and he’s sure to be a Slytherin. Added to the rest of the team...no, we’ll be unbeatable.”

 

Lori laughed, hazel eyes dancing, and said. “We’ll see. Anyway, I’ve got other customers. You boys enjoy your date! And might I say...you two look adorable together.”

 

Harry sucked in a stunned breath and Draco blinked, then opened his mouth to correct her. Before he could, she had already moved on to the next person in line. Shrugging at Harry, Draco said. “It’s fine. I’ll just explain next time I see her.”

 

With his stomach feeling a bit funny, Harry just nodded and followed Draco to a table outside.

 

Harry sat down across from Draco and immediately dug into his ice cream. He _loved_ Fortescue’s; they had the best ice cream he’d ever had.

 

His attention was caught – very suddenly – by a small sound. A _moan_ of all things. Harry’s head snapped up just in time to see Draco drawing the spoon out of his mouth. It was upside-down and Harry watched – his mouth open in a stunned little ‘o’ – as Draco’s pink tongue flicked against the deep curve of the bowl as it left his mouth, making sure it was clean. Draco locked eyes with him as he swallowed, then dipped his spoon back into his sundae.

 

He gathered up another bite – the perfect ratio of ice cream, fudge, nuts, and whipped cream – and brought it up to his mouth. He made another pleased moan around the cold metal and sweetness, letting his eyes close briefly as he savored it. Harry’s breath caught in his throat at the blissful look on the blonde’s face. There was something deeply sensual about the dull flush of color staining Draco’s cheeks, and the way his eyelashes fluttered while his lips closed around the spoon. Struggling to combat the heat flooding his face, Harry shoved an over-large spoonful of ice cream into his mouth. When had it gotten so hot outside? It hadn’t been unbearable earlier...

 

Draco’s eyes opened slowly and he smiled sweetly as he dragged the bottom curve of the spoon against a thick spot of fudge. Then he raised it to his mouth and let his tongue dart out, teasing chocolate from metal with tiny little swipes of his tongue. The look in his eyes, which had darkened from to silver to gunmetal grey, made Harry’s throat feel tight.

 

Voice hoarse, Harry asked a bit desperately. “Do you _have_ to eat like that? It’s obscene!”

 

Draco smirked, eyes gleaming. “Oh, I don’t think it’s _obscene_ , Epi. Suggestive, maybe...but then, anything is suggestive if one’s mind is in the gutter. I can’t help it if you’re reading more into my enjoyment of a treat than there actually is, now can I?”

 

Harry ground his teeth together, eyes locked on the corner of Draco’s mouth where a little smudge of chocolate was clinging. Draco ate several more spoonfuls of his treat, and all the while that little smudge of chocolate remained. It was driving Harry absolutely mad. He watched as Draco ate around the green, mint-flavored cherry, knowing Draco liked to save it for as long as he could resist eating it. He watched as Draco pursed his lips to suck melting vanilla ice cream from the bowl of his spoon. He watched as the blonde’s tongue darted out to tease whipped cream and fudge off the curve of the spoon. He was so focused on watching Draco that his own ice cream sat forgotten, melting in the sun.

 

And still that little smear of chocolate clung to the corner of Draco’s perfect lips.

 

Finally, unable to stand it any longer, Harry stood and leaned over the table, reaching out and cupping Draco’s cheek in his palm. Draco blinked up at him and Harry used his thumb to gather the little smear of fudge from Draco’s mouth. His cheek was warm against Harry’s palm, but his lips beneath Harry’s thumb were ice-cold.

 

He swallowed hard and muttered. “You had a...a little bit of fudge...” Which didn’t excuse him touching Draco, because he could have just _told_ the blonde about it, but he hadn’t been able to resist reaching out and touching – however briefly – the mouth that was driving him mad.

 

Draco’s eyes darkened further and – as Harry started to pull away – he turned his head, capturing Harry’s thumb between his teeth. Harry sucked in a sharp breath as Draco’s cold lips closed around his thumb, encasing it in the contrasting slick, wet heat of his mouth. Harry whimpered softly, feeling a long, liquid pull low in his belly as Draco _sucked_ on the digit he’d captured. Draco’s teeth lightly scraped over it, then he sucked again, hard enough to hollow his cheeks around the small bit of Harry’s flesh. Harry’s other hand slammed down on the table to brace him as his knees threatened to give out, his whole body feeling hot and tingly in an instant. He locked gazes with Draco, whose dark eyes were intense and burning, as the blonde gave another hard suck. Harry whined softly, unable to stop the wave of arousal that swept over him, causing his cock to harden in an instant. Horrified that he was reacting that way to his friend – especially when he had a boyfriend – Harry pulled his hand back quickly, shuddering when Draco’s tongue darted out, chasing his thumb and managing a teasing flick over the tip of it before Harry pulled it out of reach.

 

As Harry collapsed back to sitting, shaking all over, Draco purred softly. “In case you were wondering, Epi... _that_ was obscene.”

 

Harry opened his mouth, intending to speak – though he didn’t know _what_ he would say, because his brain had melted sometime around the moment Draco’s hot, wet mouth had closed on his thumb – but was cut-off by Draco.

 

“Hello, Severus.” Draco’s voice was unfairly calm and his smile was all innocence as he greeted Harry’s father. “All done?”

 

Harry turned to look at his father, wondering how much Severus might have seen. His arousal wilted in an instant at the thought of his dad seeing him act like a slut. Black eyes flicked between Draco’s innocent smile and Harry’s pale, shaking form before he spoke. “I think perhaps it’s time we returned home.”

 

“Sure, just one thing...” Draco held up a single finger to ask for a moment, then popped his cherry – stem and all – into his mouth. Harry watched, still a bit glassy-eyed and dazed, as Draco chewed then removed the stem – tied into a perfect knot – from his mouth before declaring. “Now we can go.”

 

Severus flicked his eyes back to Harry for a moment, wondering what precisely his godson had done to his son while he’d been gone that had put _that_ look on his face. After a moment, Severus decided he probably didn’t want to know. He was just relieved Draco wasn’t giving up on Harry, now that Harry was officially dating Blaise. Once they were back at Hogwarts, Severus decided he would find a way to let Draco know he approved.

 

Pretending he didn’t notice the way Harry wobbled, Severus followed the two teens back to the Leaky Cauldron, who’s Floo they’d be using. All-in-all, he felt it had been a rather productive day.


	7. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is super-important. :P Here, we get to see more of Blaise and Harry's relationship interactions, and it's totally gearing up towards something. If pressed, I would even label this THE BEGINNING OF THE END.
> 
> Note: This chapter contains some heavy snogging between Harry and Blaise. Fair warning.
> 
> Comments make my day, and right now my days are pretty damned craptastic, so I'll take as many as I can get. Gotta love moving, right? :P Also, I cannot believe this fic has 122 subscriptions; every time that number climbs, I have a fangirl moment., ^_^
> 
> Happy reading! ~ LS

Harry hugged Sirius tightly, his throat tight. In a low whisper, he said. “I know you’re still not happy about this, Siri, but I hope you’ll still come see my Quidditch matches and write to me. And I want to see you at Christmas.”

 

Sirius hugged Harry back, ignoring the way some of the Order members were staring at them. They had used training as an “excuse” for the two of them becoming closer and bonding; when combined with the fact that Sirius was dating Harry’s supposed-godfather, it worked quite well. “I’ll be at every match, even if you’re a Slytherin like you think you’ll be.” Sirius promised softly. “And of course Moony and I want to see you for Christmas.” He pulled back and added. “Be good now. No letting those new friends of yours corrupt you, or whatever. Godric only knows what goes on in the dungeons.”

 

Harry grinned and nodded. “I’ll miss you.” He turned and hugged Remus, just as tight as he’d hugged Sirius, and said. “I’ll miss you, too. You’ll take care of Siri for me?”

 

“Absolutely.” Remus assured him, squeezing hard enough to make Harry’s back crack. “Behave yourself, pup. See you at your first match.”

 

Harry moved away from the two men he’d expected to finish raising him, a little bit glad that Severus was already at Hogwarts. He had left immediately after they’d finished shopping the day before, and Harry had spent the night at Grimmauld Place. He could have gone to Hogwarts with his father but it had felt wrong somehow, not taking the train. And he’d wanted a little bit of time, just him and his godfathers, before he faced the school as Severus’ son. He’d _needed_ that time, really, to steady himself. And it was easier, saying goodbye to Sirius and Remus, without Severus’ presence.

 

He loved his father; he really did. And he was so thrilled, despite the challenges, to have Severus as a part of his life; as a proper parent. But it was still strange to have him looming over him whenever he was with Sirius and Remus. It was as though he thought the other two men might snatch Harry away and not give him back. In truth, Harry thought Severus might actually fear just that. Or something similar, anyway. That Sirius would turn Harry against him, and Harry would run back to his godfather and his old name and refuse to be Snape’s son. Which was absurd, because Harry had _chosen_ this.

 

But if anyone knew that fears weren’t always reasonable, it was Harry. So he was as patient as he could be with Severus’ slightly-overbearing behavior around Sirius. He just hadn’t wanted to deal with it before getting on the train, and it was a relief that he didn’t have to. He had enough on his mind without adding that stress to it.

 

Harry tugged his trunk – which Remus had thoughtfully put a Featherlight Charm on – along behind him until he found an empty compartment. He was rather early – his first time _not_ being one of the last to arrive and board the train – so finding an empty one wasn’t really a challenge. What would be a challenge would be figuring out who was going to sit with him. Typically four to six students in a compartment was normal, though Harry knew eight could squeeze in if they didn’t mind being close. Harry figured sitting by himself and waiting for the others to find him was the best starting point.

 

It wasn’t long before Hermione stuck her head in, smiling. “There you are! I wondered. Sirius told Molly that he and Remus were bringing you early. I’m a bit surprised you didn’t go on ahead with Professor Snape.”

 

“Oh, well. I’ve never had the chance to travel to school before.” Harry said, shrugging. “It seemed like the sort of thing I didn’t want to miss.”

 

Ron snorted, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, because sitting on a train for the whole day is a load of fun.” Hermione gave him a cross look and he added. “You nervous about the Sorting?”

 

“No.” Harry shook his head. “What’s to be nervous about? Unless I’m a Hufflepuff, I already know at least two people in each House. That puts me ahead of most new students.” He tipped his head and asked. “Where are your trunks?”

 

“Oh, they’re in the prefects’ carriage.” Hermione explained. “Ron and I will have to do rounds for part of the trip, and we’ve got a meeting for a bit, too. Then we’ll probably sit in one of the prefect compartments for the rest of the trip.”

 

“Oh, right.” It occurred to Harry that both Draco and Pansy were prefects as well and might choose to sit in the prefect compartments. “Where’s Ginny?”

 

“She went to go find her boyfriend.” Hermione explained, rolling her eyes. “She’ll probably come find you to say hi at some point, but right now she’s going to be lip-locked with Justin.”

 

Ron snorted, rolling his eyes. “Honestly. I don’t see why she can’t date a Gryffindor. Why’s she got to date out of House?”

 

Hermione gave her boyfriend a quelling look. “There’s nothing wrong with inter-House unity, Ron. And Ginny appreciates the different traits of the other Houses.”

 

Suddenly Hermione startled as a hand came down on her shoulder. “Granger. Weasley. How lovely to see you both.”

 

Hermione whipped around, eyes wide, to stare at Blaise. “Oh! Zabini. You startled me. It’s, um...nice to see you again.” She grabbed Ron’s hand and added. “We have to head to the prefect carriage before the train leaves, so...excuse us.”

 

Ron nodded, giving Blaise a little wave and a friendly smile before letting Hermione drag him off, calling back over his shoulder. “See you later, Epi; Blaise.”

 

Blaise watched the Gryffindors go, then turned back to face Epi. After staring for a moment, he said. “I haven’t heard from you since your birthday. I called, but you never called back.”

 

Harry’s cheeks flushed, but he nodded. “I know. I’m sorry. I was really busy with family stuff, and stuff to get me ready for school.” Then he added. “And Dad _did_ warn everyone I’d be busy.”

 

“Too busy to call your boyfriend, but not too busy to see Draco.” Blaise said, eyes narrowed. “And here you haven’t even greeted me properly, or said you missed me...why is that?”

 

Harry flushed darker, then said defensively. “Draco is Dad’s godson. Of course Dad’s going to let him come over, even when we’re really busy and stuff. That’s different, and not my fault.” Harry didn’t know why he felt so annoyed by Blaise’s words, but he did. “And you jumped on me right away, so I didn’t have a chance to say I’d missed you!”

 

“Did you?” Blaise asked, his tone far more hostile than Harry thought the situation merited.

 

“Of course I did!” Harry insisted, though part of him wasn’t so certain. When Blaise looked skeptical, Harry surged to his feet and threw himself forward, kissing Blaise for all he was worth.

 

When he pulled back a few moments later, Blaise was panting and seemed appeased. “Well...I guess I can forgive you. Was your family stuff terribly boring then?”

 

Harry laughed, relieved, and sat back down, shaking his head. “No, not really. I mean, I could’ve done without some of the lessons on bloodlines, but other than that it was fine.”

 

Blaise sat down next to Harry, tugging the slightly-shorter brunette against his side. Harry snuggled into him, doing his best not to wonder why it felt so...awkward. “How was the rest of your summer?”

 

“Lovely.” Blaise said, then added softly. “Though of course I missed you terribly. I really wanted to introduce you to Mother.”

 

Harry blanched at the thought of meeting Arabella Zabini. Swallowing nervously, he said. “That’s...a bit soon, don’t you think? We’ve not been dating very long, after all.”

 

Blaise was silent for a moment and Harry lifted his head to watch his face nervously. For a moment Blaise looked cold, then he smiled charmingly and said. “You’re right, of course. It’s just that I care about you so much already...you understand that, don’t you?”

 

Harry nodded, melting a little at the sweet look in Blaise’s eyes. Someone clearing their throat drew his attention to the door, making him grin. “‘Ria! How are you?”

 

Astoria laughed, rolling her eyes. “Fine, Epi. It’s only been a couple of weeks since I saw you. No need to get all silly about it.” She sat down on the other side of Harry and added. “I hope you don’t mind me sitting with you. You’re just _so_ much cooler than my other friends. And I can catch up with them at school.”

 

“Of course I don’t mind.” Harry assured her immediately, turning a little in Blaise’s grip so he could smile at her. “Is it just you, or Daphne too?”

 

Daphne laughed from the doorway. “No, I’m off to find Tracey and Georgina. I didn’t see them hardly at all over the summer, so I’ll sit with them and catch up.”

 

Harry nodded and ‘Ria waved as Daphne walked off, dragging her trunk with her. Moments later Pansy appeared, bouncing and looking eager. She looked at the occupants of the compartment, her face falling in the blink of an eye. “Nev isn’t here?”

 

Harry laughed, shaking his head. “Not yet. But he told me he’d come sit with us, so just put your trunk up and sit down. He’ll be here soon.”

 

“Oh, no...I can’t.” Pansy pouted. “I’ve got to head to the prefect carriage for the meeting. Draco’s already gone on ahead. I just wanted to say hi to Nev before I went. I’ll come back after, though.”

 

Harry nodded and Pansy ducked out of the compartment again, taking her trunk with her. Which Harry figured was a good thing. Their compartment was bound to be crowded as it was without adding _everyone’s_ luggage as well. He leaned back against Blaise as ‘Ria talked animatedly about the rest of her summer, making sure to nod in all the right places even though he was only half-listening.

 

When the compartment door opened again, it was Luna and Neville who entered. Once their trunks were stowed, Luna sat against the window with Neville beside her. “I do hope everyone’s summer was enjoyable.” She said airily, eyes glued on the platform. “Mine was quite nice.”

 

Neville rolled his eyes at Harry, who had seen Luna just a few days earlier – like Neville – for their final training session of the summer. Then he asked. “Has anyone seen Pansy yet?”

 

“She’s in the prefect meeting.” Blaise drawled. “She’ll come round after it.”

 

“She was sorry she missed you.” Harry added, wiggling his eyebrows at Neville. “I know you two have been writing since my party. Have you made things official yet?”

 

Neville blushed, shaking his head. “Not yet. I...well, I didn’t want to ask her through a letter, you know? So I figured on the train. Think she’ll say yes?”

 

“She’s arse over tit for you; course she’ll say yes.” ‘Ria assured him, reaching across the space between them and patting his knee supportively. “No worries. You’re meant to be the brave one, remember?”

 

Luna had pulled a Quibbler out of her bag and was reading, humming softly to herself. ‘Ria went back to chattering happily, with Neville acting as a far more stimulating conversational partner than Harry had. He closed his eyes as Blaise began playing with his hair. After a few minutes, he startled when Blaise tugged him onto his lap.

 

Blinking open his eyes, Harry asked. “What are you doing?”

 

Blaise shrugged, shifting Harry around so he was sideways across Blaise’s lap, his feet on the seat where he’d been sitting and his back supported by Blaise’s arm around his waist. “Snuggling with you. Isn’t that what boyfriends do, Epi?”

 

“I...don’t know.” Harry admitted, blushing. “I’ve never had one before.”

 

Blaise laughed softly and Harry let his head rest on Blaise’s shoulder, closing his eyes again as the train finally pulled away from the station, its whistle blowing loud and long as it started to move. Something in Harry’s chest felt tight as he realized he’d soon be facing the whole school as the son of the most-hated professor there was. Well...excepting Umbridge from the year before. Harry was pretty sure that bitch outranked his father in the “most-hated” department, hands-down.

 

Needing comfort, but unsure how to admit his worries, Harry nuzzled into Blaise’s neck. Blaise made a pleased little sound and the hand that was around Harry’s waist slipped under his tee-shirt, lightly stroking his side. Harry shivered a little at the touch; he was fairly ticklish and it made him want to squirm. A moment later Blaise’s touch firmed, pressing just a bit harder, and it went from tickling to sending little tingles of warmth up his spine.

 

Harry was drifting in and out of sleep – he hadn’t gotten much the night before, since he’d been savoring his time with Remus and Sirius – and was brought back to reality by the sound of the compartment door opening. He glanced up to see Ginny and Justin Finch-Fletchley standing there. Ginny waved, smiling at him, and Harry waved back. Neville was saying something to Justin about Herbology and Harry figured he’d let him finish before introducing himself.

 

When Justin and Neville finished, Harry said. “How’ve you been, Ginny?”

 

Ignoring Blaise, Ginny leaned in and pressed her cheek to Harry’s, making a kissing sound. “I’ve been fine, Epi. Excited about your Sorting?”

 

“I suppose, a bit.” Harry shrugged, hoping his nerves didn’t show on his face. “Who’s this?”

 

“This is Justin Finch-Fletchley, my boyfriend.” Ginny grabbed Justin’s hand, squeezing it tightly before adding. “He’s a Hufflepuff in your year. Justin, this is Epitome. Epi for short. He’ll be introduced at the feast tonight.” She paused, then added. “Remus Lupin is his godfather.”

 

“Oh, I loved Professor Lupin!” Justin enthused, beaming at Harry. “He’s one of the best Defense teachers we’ve ever had. How is he?”

 

“Good.” Harry said, giving Justin a genuine smile. He’d always liked Justin, despite him thinking Harry was the heir of Slytherin their second year. “He’s keeping busy, anyway. Are you two going to join us?”

 

Ginny laughed, shaking her head. “No, I don’t think so. We’re going to spend half the train ride with Justin’s friends and the other half with my friends. In the name of fairness. But I saw you lot through the door and wanted to say hi and wish you luck with the Sorting.”

 

“Thanks. I appreciate the sentiment, even though I’m pretty sure where I’ll go.” Harry reached out and snagged Ginny’s free hand, giving it a little squeeze. “I’ll still see you later, right? Even if I’m in Dad’s House?”

 

“Absolutely.” Ginny assured him. “Anyway, we’d best get going. Have a good train ride!”

 

Everyone said their goodbyes, then Ginny and Justin disappeared. Harry had just closed his eyes again, his mind tuning out the background sound of wheels on steel rails and Luna and ‘Ria chattering, when the door slid open again.

 

“Nev!” Pansy exclaimed, throwing herself onto his lap with a happy squeal. “I missed you!”

 

Neville laughed, his face red, and hugged the Slytherin girl. Deciding there was no point in waiting, he asked quickly. “If you missed me that much, does that mean you’d like to be my girlfriend?”

 

Pansy sucked in a sharp breath, lifting her head to stare down at him in shock. Seeing his nervous, hopeful expression, she broke into a wide grin and nodded happily. “Yes! Salazar, yes. I’ve only liked you for two years, you know.”

 

Neville blinked, then laughed and pulled her onto the bench next to him where she instantly snuggled into his side. “I didn’t know, actually.” He told her, adding. “But I’m glad.”

 

Pansy giggled, then glanced at the doorway. “Aren’t you coming in, Draco?”

 

Harry sat up a little straighter for a moment, but Blaise yanked him snugly back against his chest a second later, making Harry blush. “Er...hey, Draco.” He said, his voice coming out a little strangled.

 

Draco was staring at him, grey eyes piercing. He stiffened suddenly as Blaise dipped his head and nibbled on Harry’s neck. Harry shivered as Blaise’s talented mouth shifted over a sensitive spot, then blushed darker when Draco’s whole expression closed off. Harry didn’t know why, but he suddenly felt horribly guilty. He wanted to shift off of Blaise’s lap and apologize to Draco, but that was stupid. _Blaise_ was his boyfriend, not Draco. If he was going to feel guilty about anything, it ought to have been that whole ice cream incident the day before.

 

And that was _not_ something he wanted to think about just then.

 

“You _are_ sitting with us, aren’t you?” Pansy asked, looking confused by the way Draco was just hovering in the doorway, staring at Blaise and Harry. She flicked her eyes to where Harry was blushing as Blaise grazed his teeth over Harry’s pulse point, then back to Draco and his stony face. _‘Oh...’_ She thought to herself, feeling quite sorry for Draco as she realized the problem.

 

Draco glanced at her, then said stiffly. “I’m going to patrol.” He glanced back at Harry and Blaise and added coldly. “I think I’ll sit with Crabbe and Goyle afterwards. I’ve hardly seen them all summer and I’m certain they miss me. You know they don’t do well on their own.”

 

Pansy made a sympathetic sound, nodding. “Of course, Draco.” She let her eyes dart to Harry for a split-second before adding. “If you change your mind about sitting here, just wander back.”

 

Harry watched Draco slip back out, guilt twisting his insides even further, making him feel vaguely ill. Not able to stomach it anymore, Harry shoved himself off of Blaise’s lap. The feel of Blaise’s mouth on his skin had been pleasurable, but it also made him feel sick...it was confusing and unfair and Harry felt perfectly miserable. Which wasn’t helped by the fact that Blaise was giving him a hurt, puppy-dog look.

 

Wondering if he looked half as awful as he felt, Harry mumbled. “Feeling sick...must be the train. Excuse me...”

 

He rushed out of the compartment and headed towards the train’s bathroom, praying he wouldn’t vomit on the way. This was _not_ what he’d bargained for when he’d asked for a normal life. Not at all.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

After throwing up, Harry had made his way back to the compartment his friends were in on shaky legs. The moment he’d re-entered, Blaise had made him lay down across the seat, his head in Blaise’s lap and his feet across ‘Ria’s. Still feeling twisted up and miserable, Harry had agreed. It hadn’t taken long for the side-to-side motion of the train, the soft sound of wheels on steel rails, and Blaise’s hand carding through his hair to lull Harry to sleep. Not even his roiling stomach could combat the bone-deep exhaustion that was tugging him under.

                                        

When he woke up, it was hours later and the group of friends had fallen mostly silent. Luna was reading a textbook, as was Neville. Pansy was changing the color of her nails with little taps of her wand, seemingly indecisive about what looked best. And ‘Ria had wandered off somewhere. Harry figured she’d either gone to the bathroom, or off to see some of her other friends. Candy and snack wrappers littered the floor and benches, letting Harry know that the others had eaten at some point. Sitting up slowly, Harry was relieved when his stomach stayed calm.

 

“Feel better, love?” Blaise asked, concern radiating off of him. When Harry nodded, Blaise crooned. “That’s good. I’m glad. I suspect it was just nerves. You’ll feel one hundred percent once you’re settled in at Hogwarts, after the Sorting.”

 

“Yeah, I suppose I will.” Harry agreed, not sure that was actually the case. He managed a weak smile for Blaise and added. “I do feel less-tired now, though. I didn’t sleep well last night, so I’m sure that was part of it.”

 

Blaise made a commiserating sound, then leaned down and captured Harry’s mouth. Startled, Harry’s lips parted in surprise. Blaise took that as an invitation and immediately deepened the kiss, his hands urging Harry closer. Before he quite knew what was happening, Harry was straddling Blaise and being quite thoroughly snogged. When one of Blaise’s hands slid under the back of his tee-shirt, stroking the silky skin at the small of his back, Harry trembled and made a breathless little sound that was only partly-muffled by the older teen’s mouth. No one had ever held him like this...kissed him like this... _touched him like this._ It was new and intense and...Harry shivered again, clutching the Slytherin’s shoulders as Blaise sucked on his tongue, his fingers dancing up and down the lowest part of Harry’s spine.

 

Harry never heard the door open, but he _did_ hear the sharp intake of breath. Jerking back so fast he almost toppled right off of Blaise’s lap – the older boy’s grip on him saved him from _that_ embarrassment – Harry turned to see who was there. Green eyes locked with brown and the sheer _hurt_ in those eyes was like a punch to the stomach for Harry. It literally robbed him of breath; he just stared back, not sure what else to do.

 

Finally, after the longest and most awkwardly-uncomfortable moment Harry could ever remember, the other boy fled. Harry turned back to look at Blaise, who had a disturbingly smug look on his face. His golden-green eyes were gleaming with amused pleasure and Harry felt a little ill again. He didn’t understand the look on Blaise’s face any more than he understood the rest of what had just happened, but he didn’t think it was a good thing.

 

“What was that about?” He asked softly, hoping Blaise could give some explanation that would make everything okay.

 

“That was...an old lover.” Blaise said, his lips twitching as he struggled to keep his smile under control; Harry didn’t know if he appreciated the honesty, but Blaise’s amusement was unsettling. “Zach is a Hufflepuff, but a unique one. I’d imagine he was hoping we’d renew our previous acquaintance this year. I will, of course, speak to him at the earliest opportunity.”

 

Harry, of course, didn’t need to be told the boy’s House. He’d have recognized Zacharias Smith anywhere. It was a bit odd, that a boy so unlike himself – one he’d never gotten along with and had always despised – was someone Blaise had previously chosen to be with. But then, Harry knew most of Blaise’s previous relationships had had very little – if anything – to do with actual relationship factors. They had been, first and foremost, about sex. And Harry had to admit that, prick or not, Zach was handsome.

 

Though he still felt unsettled and uncomfortable, Harry tried to push thoughts of Zacharias Smith out of his mind, much as he’d been doing with thoughts of Draco. He had enough to worry about with the Sorting and being introduced to the school. Everything else was petty nonsense compared to those two larger issues, and he would worry about them later.

 

Sliding off Blaise’s lap, Harry leaned his head back against the seat and closed his eyes, wishing the train ride was over already. He just wanted the day to be finished so he could crawl into his new bed and forget everything for a little while. All things considered, he didn’t think he was asking for very much at all. Just a little time to himself, hiding under the covers, so he could pretend everything was back to the way it had always been. Before he’d had to worry about having a father, and a secret life, and a boyfriend. Before he’d been friends with Slytherins, and before he’d felt guilty over anything to do with Zacharias Smith. Before he’d made the mistake of touching Draco Malfoy’s ice-cold lips and had his finger sucked into the wet heat of the Slytherin’s mouth.

 

Before life had stopped making sense.

 

No, a little time to pretend everything was normal wasn’t much to ask. It wasn’t much to ask at all.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Harry allowed Blaise to take his hand, leading him off the train. He was beginning to regret his decision to take the train. Everyone was staring and whispering and pointing. Part of that was because Harry was an unknown above the age of a First Year. The other part, of course, was that Harry was with a mixed group of students from various Houses, _including_ Slytherin. Harry blinked at the Thestral-drawn carriages, then walked right up to one of the beasts and held out a hand.

 

Several students sucked in stunned breaths as Harry let the invisible-something sniff him, then gently stroked it’s face the way one would a horse. Despite his initial misgivings with the creatures, Harry had become quite fond of them. Once you got past the shock of their appearance they were terribly beautiful in their own way. The thestral snorted and leaned down, nuzzling at Harry in a head-butt-like movement that had him staggering. He laughed, pressed a kiss to its face just above its nose, gave it one last pat, and turned to climb into the carriage.

 

Luna was smiling at him, as were Pansy and Neville. Ron and Hermione – who had joined them as they were debarking the train – were looking a little confused but supportive. Blaise, however, was staring at Harry with a look of extreme distaste. Harry wondered if it was because he had something against thestrals, or if perhaps he didn’t like Harry being so affectionate with a strange animal. After a moment, it occurred to Harry that most of the students would have seen him petting and kissing thin air, making him look a bit insane.

 

It was a little worrying that Blaise seemed so concerned by public appearances and opinion, but Harry could talk to him about that later.

 

He climbed into the carriage, settling himself next to Blaise, sandwiching him in with Luna on Blaise’s other side. Ron, Hermione, Pansy, and Neville sat across from them. There was an odd, tense silence that fell over the carriage as they waited for the procession to start moving. Just before it did, the door was yanked open and Draco hopped up inside, settling himself beside Harry. Blaise shot the blonde a cold look and immediately slid his arm around Harry’s waist, pulling him close to his side.

 

Harry flushed and jerked away, not appreciating the jealous, possessive attitude in the slightest. He gave Blaise a quelling look and seeing the anger flashing in those golden-green eyes he vowed to have a talk with his boyfriend about appropriate behavior as soon as possible. This whole thing was getting ridiculous.

 

When the carriage lurched into motion, Harry felt queasy all over again. This wasn’t going to be good; he just _knew_ it.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Harry swallowed hard as he waved goodbye to his friends in the entrance hall. Instead of following them into the Great Hall, he slipped into the room next door. It wasn’t long before Professor McGonagall arrived, leading a group of terrified-looking First Year students. She smiled tightly when she saw Harry, then launched into her speech about being Sorted and how the Houses would be their home for their school career. She explained about points, and privileges, and Harry mostly tuned her out because it wasn’t anything he didn’t already know.

 

When the Deputy Headmistress finished her speech, she turned to Harry and waved him closer. When he reached her side, she said quietly. “You are Severus’ son. We weren’t properly introduced when you met the Order over the summer, but I am Professor McGonagall; Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts and Head of Gryffindor.” Harry nodded and she said. “The Headmaster has asked that you be Sorted after the First Years, if you’re agreeable.”

 

Harry simply nodded again; he wouldn’t want to take away from the Sorting by stunning the whole school with the fact that he was Snape’s son. “Of course. Am I waiting here, or entering with them?”

 

“You will enter with them.” She said, smiling a little wider as she noticed the nerves on his face. “I think you’ll draw a bit less attention that way.”

 

Harry agreed and nodded again; his throat felt a bit tight and he didn’t want to risk squeaking if he tried to talk. Minerva patted his shoulder and said softly. “You’re going to be just fine. The Order has nothing but positive things to say about you and I understand you have already bridged House rivalries. Just remember to breathe.”

 

Harry wondered for a moment if perhaps McGonagall knew who he really was, but decided only seconds later that Albus wouldn’t have told her. Or, if he _had_ , he would have told Harry. They had, after all, decided that the fewer people who knew, the better.

 

When the First Years formed up into two lines, Harry fell into step behind the final two, dead-center between the two rows, and followed them into the Great Hall. As they crowded together near the Head Table and the Sorting Hat began to sing, Harry stood amongst them. He was drawing curious stares and whispers, because he clearly wasn’t a First Year, but the Hat and the new students took some of the attention as well, which he was grateful for.

 

Harry applauded each of the new students as they were Sorted, being careful to clap no louder or softer for any one House than the others. Finally, Harry was the only person left standing in front of the school and all eyes turned to him. There was a tense pause, wherein Albus looked at Harry with twinkling eyes and a questioning look. Harry nodded, letting him know he was ready, and Albus nodded to McGonagall. She seemed to need a moment to compose herself as well; but then, it wasn’t every day you called Severus Snape’s son up to be Sorted.

 

Minerva cleared her throat, then said imperiously. “Snape, Epitome.”

 

Harry ignored the gasps and chatter breaking out around the Hall as he stepped forward, sitting on the stool and allowing his former Head of House to place the Hat on his head. For a moment there was silence, then a little voice buzzed in Harry’s ear. ‘Well, well...I know _you._ It’s not often I get a second chance at Sorting a person, you know.’

 

Harry swallowed hard, eyes squeezed tight, and thought. _‘Yes, well. Extenuating circumstances and all of that, as I’m certain you can see.’_ He waited a moment, but the Hat said nothing so he added. _‘I won’t fight you this time. I understand why you wanted me in Slytherin now and I...I think I’m ready.”_

 

‘I don’t know about _ready_...’ The Hat droned in his ear, sounding amused. ‘But willing makes a big difference, as you now know. Are you certain?’

 

Harry mentally nodded and the Hat didn’t hesitate to shout out its decision. _“SLYTHERIN!”_

 

Harry whispered a mental thank you to the Hat, which chuckled in his ear as he reached up and removed it, handing it to Minerva. While Slytherin House clapped and cheered for their new student, the school was stunned when several Gryffindors and two Ravenclaws applauded and cheered his Sorting as well. Harry grinned at all of his friends before standing and turning to raise an eyebrow at Albus. Was he meant to go join his House, or stand here while introduced? Albus made a little gesture, beckoning Harry to come stand nearer to the Head table for a moment, across from Albus and Severus. Then the Headmaster stood and cleared his throat, silencing the noise from the students with no more effort than that.

 

“Welcome back to Hogwarts.” He said, beaming at everyone. “We have, this year, our first transfer student in quite some time. And it is my great delight to introduce to you all the son of our esteemed Potions Master, Epitome Snape. Epi, is there anything you’d like to say?”

 

Harry nodded; he figured he’d better begin as he meant to go on. He gave the school as a whole a cool look and said. “I am an intensely private person. Anyone who has met my father shouldn’t find that fact surprising in the slightest. So long as you respect my privacy, I’m certain we’ll get along just fine.”

 

Harry then stepped down from the dais the Head Table was on. Rather than heading straight for Slytherin, Harry made two detours. As he passed by Ravenclaw, he stopped to hug Luna and kiss her cheek. He also gave Padma a brief hug, lightly and affectionately tugging on her braid and making her laugh. He then walked over to Gryffindor’s table, where he was enveloped in a huge hug by Hermione. Ron gave him a pat on the shoulder, but Neville gave him a quick hug. Harry laughed as Ginny teased him, hugging her tightly before giving Parvati a hug and a braid-tug to match her twin’s.

 

Finally, Harry turned and made his way over to the Slytherin table. Many of them had looks on their faces that clearly said if he wasn’t the son of Severus Snape they’d kill him in his sleep for being a traitor to Slytherin House. Harry didn’t much care, though he was a bit confused by the closed-off look on Blaise’s face when he sat beside his boyfriend. Another Slytherin boy from their year was on Harry’s other side; a blonde named Theodore Nott.

 

“Hello.” Theodore drawled, voice soft and cultured. He seemed an odd mix of shyness and curiosity. “I’m Theodore Nott. You’re in our year?”

 

Harry nodded, eyes widening when the food appeared on the table. There was a vast array of it, including quite a lot of things Harry had never seen before. He didn’t really know what most of it was and the look of some of it made his stomach twist up on itself.

 

“Er, yes. I’m a sixth year.” Harry finally said, forcing words past the metallic taste in his mouth. “What _is_ all of this?”

 

Blaise snorted, earning him a glare from Harry. “I’m sorry, is there something funny about what I just said, Blaise? Because you might want to be a bit nicer to me, considering I’m your boyfriend!”

 

Daphne, who was across from them and flanked on either side by two girls who were stunningly-pretty – one a redhead and the other a brunette with thick ringlet curls – broke in to answer his question. “The house elves here are great, Epi. They cater to the tastes of each individual House. Since we’re primarily raised with haute cuisine, we get richer dishes than most of the school.”

 

Blaise let out a long-suffering sigh and began pointing. “That’s a seafood pasta dish; mussels, clam, and scallops with linguini in a creamy wine sauce. Stuffed portabella mushroom caps – fairly basic. Calamari, which is fried baby squid.” He paused, then gave Harry a suspicious look. “You ought to recognize some of this, being from Greece.”

 

Harry felt his face flush; he wasn’t really a very good liar. But he’d been getting a lot of practice since his birthday and bit out from between clenched teeth. “I’ve told you that my past is not up for discussion, Blaise, but since you _insist_ on prying, I was raised primarily by my step-father’s family, with only the rare visit to my mother’s parents. My step-father was _American._ Which is why I don’t speak Greek.

 

Blaise continued to look at him suspiciously for a moment before he smiled soothingly and reached out to pet Harry’s hair. “I’m sorry, love. You’re right. I shouldn’t have pried.”

 

Harry ducked away from Blaise’s hand, glaring heatedly at the older boy. “Don’t try to placate me. I’ve got no patience for that.” When Blaise reached out again, Harry smacked his hand away. “Don’t! I’m not in the mood, Blaise. Just give me some space.”

 

Harry could practically hear Blaise’s teeth grinding together, but he didn’t care just then. He hadn’t asked Blaise for much, but his privacy was sacrosanct. _Everyone_ in their group knew that. Firmly ignoring Blaise for the rest of the meal, Harry focused on trying the various dishes being served at the Slytherin table. He would deal with Blaise’s anger later. Right then, he was too pissed off to care.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Harry blinked at the large group of Slytherins surrounding him. The three younger years had been sent off to their dorms, but everyone from Fourth Year up was glaring at him in the Common Room. Harry narrowed vibrant green eyes and bared his teeth in a snarl, bristling over this treatment. He was a Slytherin, properly Sorted, and the son of Severus Snape. They had _no right_ to be acting like this and if this was how Slytherin House operated…well, they were in for a rude awakening if they thought he was just going to go along with it.

 

Blaise stepped up beside Harry and said stiffly. “You lot need to calm down. Epitome isn’t used to our ways yet. But he is Professor Snape’s son and…”

 

“Oh stuff it, Zabini!” A Seventh Year girl snapped, glaring heatedly at him. “Nobody wants to hear your opinion on the matter.” She cast her eyes around, stopping when she landed on platinum blonde hair, and said. “Draco, what’s your judgment?”

 

Harry watched, stunned, as Draco stepped into the center of the snarling, sneering crowd, stopping beside him. The group instantly fell silent, waiting. Harry’s breath froze in his chest. He had spent years watching as Draco strutted around like he owned the school, thinking the other boy was utterly full of himself for no good reason. But here…here was the truth of the matter. Draco’s title of Slytherin Prince wasn’t empty; he _was_ the Prince. He ruled these students with quiet authority. It was impressive, but also a bit frightening when Harry thought about it. If he could turn Draco, then he could likely turn most of Slytherin House as well. But if he couldn’t, then these students would side with their leader.

 

“Epitome is…unique.” Draco said softly, flicking silver eyes to Harry for a moment. His mouth curved up slightly and he continued. “My godfather is quite fond of his son, and I find myself sharing the sentiment after having spent the last month getting to know him. You might not always agree with his methods, or his opinions, but I assure you he is above your touch.

 

“And think on this.” Draco’s eyes hardened as he scanned the crowd for a moment before finishing. “He has already managed to secure allies in three of the four Houses. And since one of his allies is dating a Hufflepuff, I expect he’ll find supporters among their number soon enough. How many among us can claim we have allies outside our House? He is better-connected than most. Beware his friends, should you decide to make him an enemy.”

 

There was a tense moment, then Draco turned to Harry and said softly. “Would you like to see the dorm now, Epi?”  


Feeling numb with the shock of seeing Draco Malfoy in full command, Harry nodded weakly. Draco held out his hand and Harry didn’t think before reaching out and clasping it. Within seconds, Harry’s fingers were tangled with Draco’s and Slytherin’s Prince Regent was leading the new Crown Prince through the now-subdued crowd towards the dorms. Behind them, Harry heard the rest of the upper-years start talking again. But it sounded less angry; more moderated. It was clear they were heeding Draco’s words of warning.

 

As Draco nudged open a heavy wooden door, he said softly. “I’m sorry about them. They’re a bit of an exclusive bunch, you understand.” He glanced over his shoulder and added. “I’m not sure they’ve ever met someone like you before.”

 

Harry nodded, swallowing hard as Draco gently tugged him into the dorm. The room was done up in emerald green, black, and striking silver. Dark woods gleamed with polish and the green lighting from the Common Room continued. Each lamp, with its tiny flickering flame, had a green glass cover and the windows which looked into the depths of the lake shone with an eerie green-tinted light. It was beautiful and, in a way, oddly soothing. It was also a huge difference from the bright, cheery warmth of Gryffindor Tower. Harry was torn between being homesick and feeling a strange sense of rightness at being here, in this part of the castle.

 

“I didn’t realize…” Harry said at last, watching as Draco walked over to the bed that had his trunk at the foot of it.

 

“Didn’t realize what?” Draco asked, dropping his robe into a heap on the floor and turning halfway back around, quirking one eyebrow even as nimble fingers tugged at the knot in his tie. “That we’re a rather aggressive lot?”

 

“No…” Harry murmured, shaking his head, his eyes riveted on Draco’s hands as they undid each tiny button on his shirt. “I didn’t realize you had so much power here. They all listened to you…they _wanted_ to listen to you. It was…it was _amazing._ ”

 

Draco smiled a little, shrugging his shirt off of shoulders that were nearly as white as the cotton. Harry’s mouth felt dry. As Draco’s fingers dropped to the front of his trousers even as he toed off his shoes, Harry finally found the strength to look away. His eyes scanned the trunks and he realized he was nestled between Draco and Crabbe. Goyle was on Draco’s other side. It was strange, since Harry imagined that previously Draco had been flanked by his ‘bodyguards’. Now it seemed Harry was included in that protection. He wondered if it was because of his father, or if it had something to do with Draco.

 

When the other Slytherin boys finally filtered in, Harry and Draco were both in their pajamas and settled on their beds. Draco was reading, a surprising set of thin, silver, wire-framed glasses (which he had explained he only needed when reading in dim light) perched on his nose, while Harry was doodling in a sketchbook. Crabbe and Goyle, silent but watchful, shuffled to their respective beds with simple nods to Harry. Harry returned them with a faint smile. Theodore settled into his bed – on the end next to Crabbe – right away. He said a soft goodnight and yanked his curtains shut before anyone could reply. Draco rolled his eyes at the other boy, then went right back to reading.

 

Blaise changed slowly and though Harry’s eyes flicked up a couple of times – mostly marking the older teen’s progress – he didn’t feel the same driving need to watch Blaise that he’d felt when Draco had been the one stripping. Once he was in his pajamas, Blaise moved over to Harry’s bed. He was about to sit down on the edge when Crabbe growled menacingly and cracked his knuckles. Blaise hesitated for a second, then straightened back up. Though he didn’t look pleased at all by this unexpected protective force, Blaise also didn’t seem inclined to fight it.

 

Harry studied Blaise’s tense, angry face for a moment, then said softly. “We need to talk.” He patted the bed and, after a glance at Crabbe, Blaise sat. Harry swiftly spelled his curtains shut, savoring the way his new wand functioned – it was effortless, in a way not even his old wand had been.

 

Once they were sealed inside the silenced curtains, Blaise started to lean towards Harry, eyes gleaming brightly in the near-dark. Harry jerked back, going from calm to furious in a split second as he snapped icily. “I said _talk_ , Blaise. Hands and mouth to yourself for the moment, thank you very much.”

 

Blaise crossed his arms over his chest and glared right back. “You know, I don’t appreciate the way you keep pushing me away, Epi. I’m your boyfriend and…”

 

“And that doesn’t make me your property, or give you the right to grab at me!” Harry snapped, bristling at the very idea. “I didn’t appreciate your possessive behavior on the train, or in the carriage, Blaise. I won’t stand for being hauled around like that.”

 

Blaise said nothing, though his eyes narrowed and his lips thinned as he pressed them together. Harry sighed and added. “Honestly, what made me angriest was that stunt at dinner. You _know_ how I feel about my past. What were you _thinking?”_

 

“That I ought to know more about my boyfriend.” Blaise snapped back, his own anger lashing out like a whip, quick and cutting. “That I hadn’t seen you in two weeks and I missed you and I wanted to hold you and be close to you. That you’re incredibly beautiful and don’t even seem to realize, and everyone is going to want you, and I don’t want to lose you to them.”

 

Harry blinked, then softened in an instant. How silly of him not to have understood. Blaise had never had a _real_ boyfriend before, so how could he know what was okay and what wasn’t? He was so busy worrying someone would steal Harry from him that he wasn’t thinking about how horribly possessive he was acting, or how it might bother Harry. This was all just a simple misunderstanding. Once Harry explained and cleared things up, everything would be fine.

 

“I don’t mind you touching me, Blaise.” Harry said softly, reaching out and tugging one of Blaise’s hands free, twining their fingers together. “I just don’t like being treated like property. I’m not going to be stolen away from you, I promise. But I need you to respect my privacy, and my space.”

 

Blaise’s anger seemed to melt away and he smiled, leaning in and nuzzling his nose against Harry’s. “Of course, Epi. I’m sorry. It’s just that you mean so much to me…”

 

Harry sighed softly and tipped his face up, letting Blaise kiss him, slow and deep. When the older boy finally drew back long minutes later, Harry murmured. “We should get some sleep. We have classes in the morning.”

 

Annoyance flashed in golden-green eyes, but Blaise smiled and nodded. “Of course, Epi. Sweet dreams. I’ll see you in the morning.”

 

Harry murmured goodnight, then flopped back on the bed. He flicked his wand to turn off the lamp above his bed and closed his eyes, wondering why he felt so…unhappy. Forcing the thought away, Harry drifted into a restless sleep, and unsettling dreams.


	8. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, my keyboard is busted which is severely hindering my ability to write. -_- But this is NOT abandoned; I swear! Here's a new chapter to prove my unending love and devotion. 
> 
> This chapter contains more Blaise/Harry, but nothing heavy enough to merit a legitimate warning. Remember that I love reviews; they make my day. Happy reading! ~ LS

Harry studied his schedule with interest. He had an entirely different sort of schedule from his previous years. Partly because he was taking NEWT-level classes now, but also because of his choice to pursue wandmaking as a career. In fact, he had several classes he hadn’t even known Hogwarts _offered_ until he’d spoken to Albus about his schedule. They were apparently reserved for students pursuing certain careers, as opposed to being open to the entire school. In addition, he had his special private lessons, which were encoded in a small, secondary timetable at the bottom of his class schedule.

 

Curious as to what classes he had that day, he skimmed his eyes over Monday’s slots. His first class of the day was one of his new ones: Creative Magic. In fact, he only had an hour or so until he had to be there. He also had Potions after lunch, and then Defense Against the Dark Arts after that. All three classes were two-hour time slots, though he noticed as he skimmed down the list that his other Creative Magic class was a three-hour slot. One of his other classes was a three-hour class as well: one of his two time-slots for Intrinsic Magic, in fact, which was another of his new classes.

 

He was excited about Creative Magic, actually. It seemed like a _really_ interesting class. He also couldn’t wait to see Ardeth again. The DADA teacher was exciting and very hands-on in his teaching methods. Or he had been during summer-training, anyway. The other students were going to _love_ him. Harry was a little wary about Potions, though. He’d never been overly good at it, though he’d gotten a decent grade on his OWL. Not an O, of course, but still. But he was the son of a Potions Master; he would be expected to be exceptional, wouldn’t he? He just hoped he didn’t blow anything up, or melt the cauldron. At least Severus wasn’t likely to call him names or mock him during class.

 

He hoped.

 

Shaking his head, Harry frowned at the classroom listed for Creative Magic. It would take him at least fifteen minutes to walk to that portion of the castle. Up to twenty-five, depending on if the staircases were in a cooperative mood. Which, since it was Monday, they probably wouldn’t be. Cursing softly and grabbing two buttered pieces of toast, Harry swung his bag onto his shoulder and hurried away from his spot at Slytherin table. He did _not_ want to risk being late on his very first day in the class.

 

Halfway to the doors, Harry ran – nearly literally – into Blaise and Theodore Nott. “Whoa, Epi. Slow down, love. Where are you going?” Blaise had a firm grip on Harry’s arm and a funny smile on his lips. “Come on; have breakfast with me.”

 

“Wh-what?” Harry blinked up at his boyfriend, then shook his head. “No, I...I’m sorry, Blaise. I can’t. Not today. I have to go; my first class starts in less than an hour and I don’t want to be late. Excuse me...”

 

He got two steps before Blaise’s grip on his arm brought him up short and yanked him back around. Seeing the anger flash in those green eyes, Blaise smiled sweetly and said. “Will you make me a copy of your schedule, Epi? So I know when we’ll have time together.”

 

Harry’s face softened and he drew his wand, tapping it against the rolled-up schedule and muttering the Protean Charm. The duplicate was snatched by Blaise the second it appeared and he tucked it into his bag with that same funny smile. “Thanks, Epi. Have fun in class.”

  
Harry watched Blaise and Theo sit down, wondering at the way the blonde wouldn’t meet his eyes and the still-strange look on Blaise’s face. Then he remembered he might be late for class and hurried out of the Great Hall, putting everything else out of his mind. He’d worry about weird Slytherin behavior at some other time.

 

Harry got to the Creative Magic classroom with no trouble; the staircases were apparently in a good mood, despite it being a Monday. Perhaps because it was the first day of classes. Harry wondered absently if Hogwarts missed the students over the summer, when they all went home. Was the school sentient? It was a puzzling question. Maybe he’d put it to Hermione. Or Albus. Surely one of them would know how deep the school’s magic ran.

 

Harry entered the classroom and blinked in surprise. It wasn’t set up like any class he’d ever seen. Or rather, not like any class he’d seen at Hogwarts. It looked, quite simply, like a science classroom at a muggle school. There were tall stretches of counter in place of desks or tables, in two neat rows, on either side of an aisle that divided the classroom in half. The professor didn’t have a desk either, but there was a long stretch of counter at the front of the classroom. Each countertop – excluding the teacher’s – had two tall stools next to it.

 

Harry swallowed hard when the students already in the room turned to stare at him. He _hated_ being the center of attention. He moved towards an empty counter, sitting by himself at the front of the room and hoping no one would pester him. Though he knew who a couple of the other students were, he wasn’t comfortable enough around any of them to have any sort of lengthy conversation. He just wanted to focus on his classwork and be left alone.

 

Zacharias Smith and Justin Finch-Fletchley were both in the room, though they weren’t sitting together despite being dorm mates. A Ravenclaw boy named Terry Boot was also in the room. Everyone, it seemed, was determined to sit at their own little stretch of counter and Harry hoped they wouldn’t be forced to sit _with_ someone by the teacher. He glanced at his schedule again, wondering who the teacher _was_. Someone named Babbling. Harry thought Hermione had her for something – Ancient Runes, maybe? – because the name seemed vaguely familiar.

 

He glanced up as the door opened again, admitting two Ravenclaw girls. One was Padma, who smiled at him and gave a cheerful little wave, and the other was a girl he didn’t know. Like Zach and Justin, the Ravenclaws chose to sit separate from each other, each taking their own countertop. Draco strolled in next, looking a little harried and rushed. He moved straight to the front of the classroom, sitting across the aisle from Harry, in front of Terry. Harry wondered where the professor was, and if this was their entire class. If it was, it would be the smallest class he’d ever been in.

 

Just as Harry decided it _was_ the whole class, the door opened and admitted two more people. One was the professor – a woman younger than most of the teachers at the school, who was actually quite pretty – and Dean Thomas, who seemed unconcerned about nearly being late as he chatted happily to Professor Babbling. He took the only remaining counter as their professor moved up the aisle to the front of the room. She circled _her_ counter and sat, then smiled at everyone.

 

“Welcome, to Creative Magic.” She said, in a voice as soft and dark as a moonless night. “This is, as you can see, a small class. This means I will know your names, I will know your career plans, and I will know _you_ before much time passes. In turn, you will all come to know me quite well.

 

“In light of this fact, we will not stand on ceremony while in this room.” She smiled again, flashing straight, even teeth, and said. “You may call me by my given name, Bathsheda.”

 

She stood and turned to the board behind her, her auburn curls swinging cheerfully around her shoulders, and wrote out her name in vibrant blue chalk before facing them again. “This is a unique class. It is a combination of precision and art. I expect you to work hard. If you slack off, I will not hesitate to have this class removed from your schedule. And no, I do not care if that ruins your career options. So long as you do your work to the best of your abilities, I will be the nicest teacher you’ve ever had. Cross me, and I’ll be the worst.”

 

Still smiling, she clapped her hands together once and said. “Now, let’s get introductions out of the way before we get started on the theory behind this class. Just tell everyone your name, and your chosen profession. I’ll handle the rest.”

 

She looked to Draco first and waited. The blonde’s pale cheeks flushed pink, but he cleared his throat and said softly. “My name is Draco Malfoy, and I want to be an Unspeakable.”

 

“How ambitious of you, Draco.” Bathsheda praised, her blue eyes sparkling. “Unspeakables are required to understand the theory and practical application of, essentially, all forms of magic.”

 

She looked at Terry next and the Ravenclaw turned even redder than Draco had before he answered. “My name is Terry Boot, and I, um…I want to be a chef. Of sorts. It’s…um….complicated.”

 

“A chef…interesting.” Bathsheda’s gaze had sharpened, making her look alert and curious. “I look forward to seeing your work in this class, Terry. I imagine it will be quite tasty.”

 

Zach was seated behind Terry and he spoke next. “I’m Zacharias Smith – Zach for short – and I’m going to work in broom design.”

 

Bathsheda nodded, her alert look softening to a more subtle curiosity once more. “A fine career choice, Zach. Brooms are constantly being improved upon, and the demand is ever-present.”

 

Padma, who was the last in that row, raised her chin proudly when the professor looked at her and declared. “I’m Padma Patil and I intend to make musical instruments.”

 

Bathsheda laughed, sounded utterly delighted. “I take it from your tone that they are not going to be _ordinary_ musical instruments?” Padma grinned back and Bathsheda clapped her hands together excitedly, like a small child being promised a treat. “I must say, I do believe this is going to be one of the _best_ classes I’ve had the pleasure of having. I do so enjoy teaching this course.”

 

She looked at Dean next and waited. “I’m Dean Thomas.” He said, giving the rest of the class a friendly little wave. “I’m an artist, and Professor McGonagall said I might like this class.”

 

More laughter from their professor followed his introduction. “Yes, I rather think you will. Artists often find new inspiration in this class.”

 

The Ravenclaw girl Harry didn’t know was next and she smiled a little shyly before she spoke. “My name is Mandy Brocklehurst. I want to be an architect.”

 

“Lovely.” Bathsheda praised, though not with the same level of delight she had shown for some of her other students. “Architectural Creative Magic is some of the most precision-based magic there is, so I will expect you to apply yourself _quite_ dedicatedly, Mandy.” Mandy nodded vigorously.

 

Justin was practically bouncing in his seat as he offered his introduction. “I’m Justin Finch-Fletchley and I’m going to make toys.”

 

“Oh, wonderful! This is truly going to be a marvelous year, with such an inventive group in my class.” She was back to looking thrilled as she smiled at Justin. “True toymakers are so rare in this day and age, Justin, so I will expect great things.”

 

Her eyes moved to Harry next and he resisted the urge to fidget under her intense stare. Instead, he smirked and drawled. “My name is Epitome Snape. Epi, if you like. And I’m a wandmaker.” Harry deliberately phrased it that way, making it clear that his career was set in stone.

 

For the first time since walking in, Bathsheda was silent. She just stared at Harry in shock for a long moment, then said breathlessly. “Wandmaking is…well, it’s a special craft, Epi. Very few people are properly suited to it and gaining an apprenticeship is _quite_ difficult.”

 

“Garrick Ollivander has already offered me an apprenticeship.” Harry said, still smirking. “Just ask Draco; he was there when it happened.”

 

Bathsheda whirled to look at Draco, who simply nodded. When she turned back to Harry, she was smiling in a crafty, greedy sort of way that made her former-House quite obvious. “Well…a wandmaker, then. I haven’t had a wandmaker in my class before. This is going to be _marvelous.”_

 

Harry shrugged, making it clear that he had little-to-no interest in her schemes and plans for him. She simply smiled back, not bothered by his attitude at all.

 

She turned back to the class as a whole and began to talk, pacing back and forth behind her counter as she spoke. “Creative Magic is a complex combination of Charms and Transfiguration. It is a crafting magic; one that works without the aid of specific spells. Though we do, on occasion, use standard spells to achieve a desired result we will mostly be working without them. This takes focus; concentration. It takes a supreme strength of will.

 

“We will all work together to start, though your efforts will reflect your career choice. Some will work with wood, others with metal, or paper, or food. Again, this will be a reflection of _your_ needs.” She stopped pacing and began to write on the board – Harry didn’t understand what it was but it looked like a complex mathematical formula, mixed in with runes.

 

When she had filled most of the board, she turned around and said. “This was my final project for this class, when I took it. I took this formula – one which I don’t expect any of you to understand, since none of you has a NEWT understanding of Ancient Runes – and used it to create a delightful visual display. It was…breathtaking.” She flicked her wand and the board was blank in an instant. “Each of you will spend the second half of the year – once you have mastered the basics for the class – creating something. I don’t care what you create. I don’t care if it pertains to your chosen field, though it’s probably best for you if it does. Your project will determine your final grade for this class. I do not administer an exam. After Christmas break, you will not be assigned homework. Your class time will be spent on your project, rather than on work from me. Use it wisely.”

 

As she launched into the history of Creative Magic, Harry’s mind whirled. He had a feeling this was going to be his most challenging class, but it was a challenge he was eager to meet.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Harry spent lunch going over his potions’ textbook, determined to _not_ look like a complete idiot in Snape’s class for once. He ignored the Slytherins around him as they chattered on about their morning classes and their summers. He also ignored Blaise next to him, though he could tell it was irritating his boyfriend. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to talk to Blaise, or spend time with him. He just had other, more important, things on his mind. Like class. Class was very, _very_ important just at the moment. Especially the class his father taught.

 

When it was time, Harry gathered his things and shoved them into his bag. Blaise stood when he did and grabbed Harry’s hand. Smiling tiredly – he felt like his brain was going to leak out of his ears at any moment; potions cramming was never the best idea – Harry gave Blaise’s hand a squeeze and walked with his boyfriend to the Potions’ classroom. Once inside, Harry seated himself right at the front, on the right side of the aisle. Each of the twelve work stations – six on either side of the central aisle – had two stools and Blaise immediately sat down beside Harry.

 

Knowing his father didn’t exactly approve of his relationship – though Severus hadn’t come right out and said as much, he’d said enough to make it clear he didn’t trust Blaise with his son – Harry wondered what Severus would say about the seating. He watched his father, who was reading something at his desk as the students filtered into the room and took seats, talking in only the softest of murmurs despite the fact that class hadn’t yet started. _No one_ wanted to piss off Severus Snape.

 

Once everyone was seated, Severus spoke – without looking up from the parchment he was looking at – and said in a soft voice that was nonetheless heard by everyone. “Do not get comfortable. I will be assigning your seats for this class.”

 

Harry’s lips twitched up; he ought to have known his father would do something like this. They had _never_ had assigned seats for potions, though Severus did occasionally assign partners for a specific potion. It was apparent to Harry that his father had no intention of watching Blaise and Harry sit beside each other in his class. Fighting back the smile was hard, but Harry didn’t want Severus to see it. It wasn’t that Harry approved of Severus meddling in his life, but it was still a bit amusing that Severus would rather take the time to rearrange the entire classroom than have his son seated beside someone he didn’t approve of. The subtle show of disapproval was...endearing.

 

A few minutes passed, with the entire class sitting almost-silently, before Severus finished whatever it was that he was looking at so intently. Then he looked up and let his eyes skim over the class, as though analyzing the students and deciding who he was going to pair everyone up with. Harry didn’t believe it for a second. He had a feeling Severus knew precisely who he was going to pair up. Glancing around the classroom, Harry realized there was an uneven number of students. Which meant one student would be working alone. He wondered who it would be.

 

Severus finally smiled – in a way that was cold and probably terrifying to most of the students – and began to direct everyone. “Mr. Nott, you will come and sit beside my son.”

 

Blaise’s mouth pinched tight, but he rose and moved to stand in the center aisle, awaiting his own seating assignment, as Theodore moved to take the seat next to Harry.

 

Ron and Hermione had sat down behind Harry and Blaise, and Severus studied them for a moment before nodding once. “Mr. Weasley; Miss Granger. You two may stay as you are.”

 

Pansy and Draco had sat behind Ron and Hermione, and Severus spoke softly when he addressed his godson. “Draco, if you could come up to this table in the front, please, you will be working alone as you are the most promising student and should be able to function without a partner at all times.”

 

When Draco had gathered his things and moved to the table across the aisle from Harry that two other students had swiftly vacated, Severus added. “Miss MacDougal, sit beside Miss Parkinson.”

 

Morag, a Ravenclaw girl, moved to her new seat and Severus continued. “Mr. McMillan; Miss Perks. You two will sit behind Draco.” The two Hufflepuffs nodded and moved to the table behind Draco, while the student sitting there moved quickly out of the way.

 

There was a pause as Severus studied the four remaining boys, then he said. “Mr. Boot and Mr. Corner, you two may sit there.” He nodded at the table across the aisle from Pansy and Morag, then added. “Mr. Zabini, you and Mr. Goldstein will sit behind them.”

 

Once everyone was seated, Severus launched into a quick overview of the class. He explained what potions and techniques they would be studying over the course of the year. He also explained that most of their assignments would be worked on individually, but a handful would require a partner. They would work with their seating-partner on those projects, excepting Draco who would work alone. Severus made it clear that childish mistakes would _not_ be tolerated in his NEWT-level class. Anyone who was failing to keep up at Christmas would be removed from the class for the remainder of the year. He would not waste his time on anyone too incompetent to handle the class.

 

When he began to review, throwing out questions at random, Harry was stunned to realize he knew several of the answers. He didn’t raise his hand _every_ time his dad asked something the way Draco, Hermione, and a couple of the Ravenclaws did, but he _did_ raise his hand. Twice Severus called on him, and both times he answered correctly and earned points for his new House. It was the first time Harry had ever _not_ felt like a complete failure in potions.

  
By the time class was over, Harry was confident that he would be able to handle the class now that he wasn’t being picked on or sabotaged.

 

Harry wasn’t the only one heading to Defense Against the Dark Arts next, but he _was_ the only one who wasn’t in an over-eager rush to get there. New DADA professors were _always_ a topic of excited discussion before the first few classes of the year were taught, and the students took their measure. Not even the disaster with Umbridge the year before could dim the enthusiasm of the students. After all, _Ardeth Bay_ was practically a _legend._ He was foreign, and exotic, and dead-sexy to boot.

 

Harry, however, wanted a minute with Severus. So he shooed his friends out of the classroom, telling them to either go on ahead or wait in the hallway; he wouldn’t be more than ten minutes. Severus waited as the students did as Harry urged, packing up their things and heading out without hesitation. Normally Draco was the only student who could stay behind after his class without his friends immediately worrying, but that had changed. Harry was his son, and no one was going to worry about him being alone with his father. It was amusing since, before this year, all of Harry’s friends would have been giving Harry sympathetic looks rather than unconcerned smiles and waves.

 

The fact that none of them _knew_ that his son was actually Harry Potter didn’t make it any less-amusing to Severus. Not even a little. The tension around Harry’s mouth and eyes, however, _did._ As soon as the door shut behind the other students, Severus pushed his chair back from his desk. With nothing more than a quirked eyebrow and open arms, he let Harry know that _he_ knew something was wrong.

 

Harry didn’t hesitate to accept the invitation; he was curled up on his father’s lap, snuggling and relaxing with a contented sigh, almost instantly. For several long minutes, Severus simply stroked Harry’s back and petted his hair, holding him tightly and waiting until his son seemed calmer.

 

Only when he was sure Harry was feeling better did he speak. “Do you want to talk about it?”

 

“Er...not really.” Harry admitted, cheeks flushing darkly. He lifted his head from Severus’ shoulder, peeking sheepishly up at him from beneath his long, dark lashes. “Just...a little overwhelmed, I guess. It’s weird, being a Slytherin. And being grilled about a past that didn’t really happen. And about you. I was also sort of hoping for _less_ staring this year, you know?”

 

Severus chuckled, grateful that Harry’s tension and misery seemed to be caused by normal teenage issues, rather than Dark Lord related ones. “They’ll get used to you soon enough.” He reassured him, giving his waist a tight squeeze. “Just as you will adjust to being a Slytherin, everyone will adjust to me being your father. Remember that you do not _have_ to tell them anything.”

 

“I know.” Harry rested his head on Severus’ shoulder for another minute, then added. “I should go to class. I bet at least Blaise is waiting for me in the hallway, along with Merlin only knows who.”

  
“Of course.” Severus released his son, watching as Harry straightened his robes and bag, heading for the door. Just as he reached it, he called out. “Epi?” When those green eyes locked with his, questioning, Severus said softly. “Remember that you can come and see me whenever you’re feeling overwhelmed. Provided I have not been _called_ , I will never be too busy for you.”

 

Harry whole face softened, his lips curving up into a sweet smile. “Thanks.” He said and Severus could tell he _really_ meant it. “Love you.”

 

“I love you, too.” Severus assured his son, watching with just the faintest concern as Harry left. Harry was a resilient child; he would be fine. Severus found it harder than he thought he should have, to believe that silent reassurance to himself.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Harry was absently doodling on a scrap of parchment while he waited for Ardeth to start the class. Since he had Blaise on one side of him and Draco on the other, drawing had seemed like a safer option than attempting conversation. He was also uncomfortable with the way Zacharias Smith – who was sitting directly across from him and Blaise – was watching them with huge, sad eyes. It was only made worse by the way Blaise kept shifting his seat closer to Harry’s, so that their legs were pressed together under the table.

 

Harry had initially tried shifting away from Blaise in the other direction, but Draco had refused to budge over so he had just wound up with a Slytherin pressed against either side of him. It made Harry feel guilty that he really wanted to lean against Draco’s side to put as much space between himself and Blaise as possible, but he didn’t know what he was supposed to do about it. He blamed it on Smith. If the Hufflepuff would just stop staring at them like he was a puppy someone had been kicking, then surely Harry wouldn’t feel so uncomfortable about being close to Blaise.

 

Suddenly Blaise’s voice in his ear made Harry jump. “What are you drawing, Epi?”

 

Harry slammed his textbook on top of the parchment in an instant, cheeks burning. “Nothing!” He hissed, glaring at Blaise. “I don’t...I don’t like when people look at my sketches, okay?”

 

Blaise blinked, stunned at Harry’s sudden outburst, then held up his hands defensively. “Okay, I’m sorry. I was just asking. Never mind.”

 

Embarrassed now for having freaked out over such a simple question, Harry’s cheeks got even darker and he mumbled. “Sorry for snapping. It’s just been a long day.”

 

Blaise made a soft, sympathetic sound. “Of course, love. It’s your first day attending a proper school. It must be _so_ stressful for you.” Blaise pressed his palm to Harry’s cheek, tipping his face up to his, and brushed their mouths lightly together before promising. “After dinner, I’ll give you a massage to help you relax.”

 

Softening instantly, Harry smiled at Blaise and leaned forward, resting his forehead against his boyfriend’s, letting his eyes close as he sighed softly. “Thank you.” He murmured, blindly tipping his head a little and nuzzling his nose against Blaise’s. “That would be lovely.”

 

Blaise pressed a soft kiss to Harry’s lips and Harry sighed softly again before opening his eyes and tugging out fresh parchment from the half-messy pile in front of him. He knew he probably ought to get his quill and ink ready for note-taking, but instead he picked up another of his sketch pencils and started to draw. He could feel Blaise looking at him, but at this point in the drawing there was nothing identifiable about his subject so he didn’t mind as much as he would once the work was further along.

 

Dark lines, bold and sweeping, were followed by softer lines and shading. Harry worked quickly, not because he was hurrying but simply because he’d been drawing the same thing for a couple of weeks – though he wasn’t sure why – and he’d gotten pretty good at it. He wished he had his colored pencils with him, and proper sketch paper. But those were in his trunk. The parchment was the wrong color...the skin around the eyes should be white. Snow-white; nearly as pale as Harry himself was. And he needed a soft gold for the eyelashes...the dark color of the pencil was all wrong and it bothered him.

 

He flicked his eyes to look at the boy beside him, just for an instant...he wondered if he had a pencil that could possibly do the ever-changing color of those silver eyes justice. Probably not, but it certainly hadn’t stopped him from trying. His trunk was stuffed with papers covered in drawings of Draco’s eyes. Not Draco as a whole...not even Draco’s face. Just his _eyes._ Over and over again. Sometimes wide and laughing; sometimes narrowed and angry; sometimes heavy-lidded, with the pupils blown wide with desire. It was enough to drive Harry insane.

 

He kept thinking, one more time...if he could just sketch them _one more time_...then he could get the image out of his head. So far, it hadn’t worked. When Harry closed his eyes, it was Draco’s he saw. And if that wasn’t enough to make his gut clench in guilt, Harry didn’t know what was.

 

Ardeth stood from his desk at last and the whole class fell instantly silent. Harry swallowed hard and stuffed his newest drawing inside his book with the other one, struggling to pay attention to his professor.

 

“I wish to assess everyone’s level of competency in this class.” Ardeth was saying, smiling in a way that said he could kill someone without breaking a sweat – and probably _had._ “You will each perform a spell for me; something a student of your age should be able to manage. If you can cast something beyond your expected level, please do so. I enjoy being impressed.”

 

Those piercing dark eyes moved over the class for a moment before settling on Harry. “Epitome. As my former student, I know your skill-set quite well. Do me the honor of showing your classmates just what you have learned from me.”

 

Harry looked up, surprised, but nodded. “Er, okay.” He stood and moved to stand in front of the class, beside Ardeth, facing the ‘U’-shaped formation of tables everyone was sitting in. “I suppose I’ll cast...”

 

“The Patronus charm.” Ardeth cut him off, earning quiet but thrilled murmurs from the other students. It was always exciting to see someone cast a Patronus. “Please.”

 

Harry tensed, everything in him going tight and worried. His Patronus was so personal...and it was something highly-known. He cast Ardeth a desperate look, trying to convey with his eyes alone that this was _not_ a good idea. If a stag burst from the tip of his wand, the charade was over. There wouldn’t be any way he could explain it. A Patronus was just...too personal.

 

Instead of giving in, Ardeth simply raised an eyebrow in challenge. Harry sucked in a trembling breath and raised his wand, closing his eyes and searching for a memory. It came in the form of strong arms wrapped around him, making him feel safe and loved, and the sound of his father’s velvety purr singing softly to soothe his fears.

 

Locking that memory in place, Harry whispered. “Expecto patronum.”

 

He opened his eyes as everyone gasped and couldn’t keep the smile from his lips. A silver raven was winging around the room, leaving a shimmery trail in its wake. Harry laughed, delighted, and held his arm up like he would do for Hedwig, or Anathema. And, just as his owls tended to do, the Patronus flew right to him, landing lightly on his arm. For something that was meant to be mostly incorporeal, the bird had a surprising amount of weight. Harry’s arm dipped under it, then he steadied himself. Reaching up with his other hand, he stroked the bird’s head lightly.

 

The bird seemed to study him for a moment, then took flight again. It made one more silent circuit of the room before disappearing into nothing. Still grinning, Harry inclined his head to Ardeth and walked back to his seat. Everyone was murmuring excitedly and Draco was studying Harry with a funny look on his face.

 

He leaned close and said softly. “That was your father, wasn’t it?” With a start, Harry realized that his Patronus had changed for the same reason everything else had changed...the spell hiding his father’s identity was no longer in place. He nodded and Draco smiled. “I’ve only seen him shift once, but it was one of the coolest things I’ve ever seen.”

 

It was on the tip of Harry’s tongue to say that he was training to be an Animagi himself, but he bit the words back. He _wanted_ to trust Draco, but the risk if he was wrong – if Draco chose to side with his parents and the Dark Lord – was too high. Instead, he said softly. “I know. There’s not much cooler than watching an Animagi shift happen.”

 

Harry struggled to focus on class again. He tried to watch what each student did, proud beyond words as the former-DA members proudly showed off their Patronus forms as well. Very-nearly half the class could create a corporeal Patronus, something that Harry knew was largely because of him. He wanted to just beam at everyone, but knew he couldn’t. Ardeth seemed impressed as well, clearly having not anticipated such a prominent showing of such a rare skill. Many adults couldn’t create a corporeal Patronus; the fact that so many of the students present could was amazing.

 

When he announced that the first thing he intended to do was teach the _rest_ of the class how to create the charm, Harry eagerly volunteered to help teach the ones who couldn’t do it. Hermione, Ron, and Neville all stepped forward as well, eager to assist. Ardeth seemed pleased with their initiative and happily agreed that any student capable of casting the charm was more than welcome to pair up with a student who couldn’t to help teach them.

 

“This charm is highly under-utilized.” Ardeth explained, leaning back against his desk and moving dark eyes over his class. “It can be used, of course, to ward off a Dementor attack. But it also works against other creatures, such as the Lethifold. It can be used to create a moving light in dark places, it can help guide you if you are lost, and it can even be used to guide someone else while you remain safely out of sight. The spell is highly versatile. I expect you to _all_ be able to cast it before we move on.”

 

As Ardeth went on, explaining some of the other spells they would be learning over the course of the year, Harry’s mind wandered again. It wasn’t that Ardeth wasn’t interesting; it wasn’t that the class wasn’t interesting. It was just that there was so much going on…so much that had happened just since his birthday…that Harry found it hard to focus on _anything_ for very long. Not to mention Harry already knew how to cast more than half of the spells Ardeth was talking about.

 

This class was, essentially, little more than revision for his training.

 

When class finally ended, Ardeth shot Harry an amused look that said he’d noticed Harry’s wandering attention but wasn’t offended. Harry smiled sheepishly back and shrugged. He knew that Ardeth found him more than acceptably skilled in DADA; as long as he wasn’t causing a scene in class or disrupting the other students, Ardeth Bay wasn’t going to fuss about Harry’s inattention. With a grin and a wink at his professor, Harry let Blaise tangle their fingers together and lead him out of the classroom.

 

Harry’s mind continued to wander as Blaise tugged him along, towards the Great Hall for dinner. Harry wasn’t really hungry, but he went anyway.

 

Lost in his own thoughts the way he was, Harry didn’t notice a pair of furious, hate-filled brown eyes locked on him. If he had…well, it might have saved him a _lot_ of trouble.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

After dinner, Harry knew he should buckle down and study. He should be going over potions or Defense, or charms since he had that class the next day. Yes, he should be brushing up on charms so he could wow Flitwick. But he was _tired._ He was tired, and tense, and miserable. And it was only the first day of school, so did he _really_ need to study just yet? It wasn’t as though he even had any homework just yet. Surely it wasn’t slacking if he didn’t even have homework yet.

 

Groaning, Harry buried his face in his pillow, ignoring the stack of textbooks on his nightstand. He nudged his bag with his foot, sending it toppling off his bed, accompanied by the satisfying sound of things scattering across the floor. It was petty and childish, but oh-so-satisfying and Harry couldn’t help smiling to himself. He heard a low chuckle and unburied his face for a moment, grinning when he saw his boyfriend. Blaise was looking with amusement between Harry’s unapologetic smile and the mess on the floor beside his bed. It was clear he found Harry’s frustrated tantrum cute, rather than childish, which Harry was grateful for.

 

“Ready for that massage?” Blaise asked, golden-green eyes glittering as he moved closer. “You look like you could _really_ use it.”

 

“Merlin, yes.” Harry enthused, practically whimpering in delight at the mere _thought_ of getting a nice, relaxing massage. “Thank you so much.”

 

Blaise laughed, sitting on the edge of Harry’s bed and gesturing to his clothing. “Robe, tie, and shirt off then, love. Can’t give an effective massage through all of those layers.”

 

Harry hastily shed his robe, the green and silver tie, and his button-up shirt. After a second’s hesitation, he decided to get as comfortable as he could. He seriously needed to relax. He kicked off his shoes, tugged his socks off, shed the undershirt he was wearing, and after only a moment’s debate removed his trousers as well. Then, blushing faintly and cursing his fair skin for showing it so well, he laid down on his stomach on his bed.

 

Blaise hummed appreciatively as Harry revealed his lean, wiry frame. Pale skin shifted enticingly over toned muscles; Harry was incredibly fit due to all of his training. He closed his eyes, body stiff and tense in his embarrassment over being nearly-naked, and waited. He startled when he felt Blaise’s weight settle on his ass as the older teen straddled him.

 

“Shhh…” Blaise soothed, leaning down to nip the top of Harry’s ear teasingly. “This is just the easiest position, love. Relax.”  


So tense he was practically vibrating, Harry nodded jerkily. Blaise chuckled again and Harry struggled to adjust to the weight of his body and the heat seeping through his boxers from Blaise’s thighs. Slender, long-fingered hands settled on Harry’s shoulders, kneading gently. The light touch was soothing; simple; non-demanding. After a few minutes, Harry’s face smoothed out; his eyes were still closed, but lightly now rather than squeezed tightly together.

 

As Harry slowly relaxed under Blaise’s touch, the older Slytherin stepped-up the massage. His palms skimmed over Harry’s soft skin, then he dug his fingers in, seeking each knot and spot of tension. Harry sighed and whimpered softly as Blaise worked; his boyfriend’s hands were _magic._ He could just feel his tension melting away under the firm pressure of Blaise’s fingers.

 

Melting into the bed, Harry hummed softly and enjoyed the way Blaise’s hands were drifting lower on his back, still seeking knotted muscles; coaxing more of him into relaxation. Blaise’s palms ghosted up the center of his back, then he shifted his hands, letting his fingers ghost back down Harry’s sides. Harry shifted a little under the touch, something tickling his brain, like a distant warning bell. Too relaxed to pay it much mind, and halfway to falling asleep under Blaise’s skilled touch, Harry made a soft, sleepy sound of pleasure as Blaise’s hands kept moving.

 

Blaise smirked and shifted backwards, letting his weight settle softly on Harry’s upper-thighs. Harry noticed the move in an absent-minded way, but Blaise pressed his fingers into Harry’s lower back, causing him to groan softly in pleasure. He had never known a massage could feel so good. He felt sleepy and hazy, with pleasure coursing through his veins slow and steady. It was thick and warm and sluggish, but felt completely amazing.

 

Suddenly Harry felt Blaise’s palms curve down over his ass, pressing firmly through the cotton of his boxers. That tiny, so-soft alarm in his brain was louder now, telling him...something. Harry hummed softly, eyelashes fluttering as he fought against the drugging pleasure seeping through his body, trying to remember why _anything_ might be a bad idea, let alone this. Harry shifted beneath Blaise, a small, confused sound building in his throat.

 

Blaise’s touch got firmer, squeezing just slightly, and Harry’s sound of confusion melted into a low, throaty moan. His brain was trying hard to catch up to his body through the molasses-thick haze of pleasure fogging everything over. Suddenly the door to the dorm room slammed, making Blaise jump.

 

Harry blinked, eyes glassy and dazed, and turned his head to look at the door. Standing there, looking too furious for words, was Draco. Face red, grey eyes narrowed and glittering, hands clenched into fists at his side; Draco looked ready to Cruciate someone.

 

“Blaise.” Draco hissed from between clenched teeth, fairly bristling. “What in the name of Salazar is going on in here?”

 

Blaise smirked, looking smug and superior, and purred calmly. “Why, whatever does it look like? I’m giving my boyfriend a massage.”

 

Harry stiffened, eyes going wide, as Blaise’s hands ran possessively down his back to palm his ass again, giving a _much_ firmer squeeze this time. He sat up swiftly, shoving Blaise off of him and very nearly onto the floor in his haste to put space between them. “D-Draco...” Harry stammered, grabbing for his undershirt and hurriedly tugging it on, flushing all the way down his chest. “I...we weren’t...I just was....tense, you know? Class, and being at school, and everyone staring, and...”

 

Blaise was on his feet in an instant, his whole face shut down as he gave Harry a cold look. “I don’t think I appreciate this need to _defend_ our behavior, Epitome. You are my boyfriend. What passes between us doesn’t require excuses.” He sneered and added. “Or it shouldn’t, anyway. When you get that sorted in your head, you know where to find me.”

 

“No, Blaise...wait!” Harry scrambled to his knees, reaching for Blaise’s arm, but the older boy shifted away and was across the room and out the door with speedy grace. Letting his hand fall, face miserable, Harry glanced back at Draco. “Draco...”

 

“Don’t.” Draco said; cold and quiet, like frosted fury. “I don’t care to hear it.”

 

Harry watched as Draco turned and followed Blaise out of the room, wondering just how he’d managed to fuck things up so spectacularly.


	9. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to apologize for being absent for such a long time. :/ This fic is NOT abandoned; not at all. I swear it. But I've been having some personal issues lately and it's made writing a non-thing for a little while. My husband and I are working things out, and it's getting better, but it's still a bit rough and that means my writing has had to take a bit of a back-burner position for the moment. Which sucks, but obviously my RL comes first.
> 
> Here is a good-faith chapter, in the meantime. I'll try to post Ch 9 in the next week or so as well. I do hope you lot enjoy this one and haven't given up on THP, because I certainly haven't.
> 
> As always, comments thrill me so feel free to leave me some lovin'! <3 ~ LS
> 
> P.S. - **PLEASE** take the time to read the A/N at the end of the chapter, which contains some VERY important information regarding the chapter.
> 
> Also, warnings for this chapter: abusive tendencies, and several moments of non-consensual groping/snogging.

Harry walked into the Great Hall on Tuesday morning and hesitated for a long moment. He didn’t want to sit with the Slytherins; not just then. He didn’t know what to say to Blaise, or to Draco, or to any of their friends if they asked what was going on. He had lain awake last night, secure behind his bed curtains, until long after everyone else had come in and gone to sleep. Neither Draco nor Blaise had tried to talk to him, and Harry was equal parts pissed off and grateful for it. Harry wanted to fix things, he just didn’t know how. It wasn’t like he had an instruction manual for this sort of thing.

 

He also didn’t want to sit at any of the other House tables. All of his friends knew he was dating Blaise. The whole school knew he was dating Blaise, actually; the older Slytherin hadn’t exactly been keeping his relationship with Harry a secret. He didn’t want to deal with questions, especially when he didn’t really have any of the answers. Which left him with two options.

 

He could grab food and eat on his way to Charms – it wasn’t as though he had long before class, since it started at 8am. Or he could eat with his father.

 

Deciding he didn’t give a tiny rat’s ass what anyone thought, Harry straightened his spine and walked up to the Head Table. There were several empty places. The teachers with earlier classes had already eaten; some of the ones with later classes hadn’t arrived yet. The staggered times for meals and classes meant there was always some faculty present in the Great Hall while students were eating, but other than celebratory feast they were rarely all there at the exact same time.

 

And whenever possible, the seats on either side of Severus Snape were empty. Minerva, of course, sometimes sat near Severus when they had things to discuss, but that wasn’t often. And Harry could think of a handful of times over the years when he’d seen Severus in deep conversation with a fellow staff member. But it certainly didn’t happen much. The man radiated impatience, moodiness, and a dark sort of power that made people back away. It no longer frightened Harry, but then it was no longer directed at him. Still, it made finding a seat much easier.

 

Severus blinked in surprise when he felt someone take the seat next to him. He looked up, then snorted at the sight of his son’s defiant face. “You’ve only just woken up. Surely the day hasn’t been _that bad_ already, has it?”

 

Harry gave Severus a wry smile and muttered. “More like...leftover bad from yesterday. I just didn’t want to sit with any of them right now.” Clenching his hands in his lap and staring down at the empty plate in front of him, he asked tensely. “Is that...okay?”

  
“Of course.” Severus smiled at his son and reached out without thought, running his fingers through Harry’s hair as he momentarily forgot about their audience. “You are always welcome to join me. You know that.”

 

Harry smiled and closed his eyes for a moment, letting his father’s touch soothe his ragged nerves. As Severus withdrew his hand, Harry opened his eyes and blushed a little, realizing everyone was staring at them in stunned silence. Harry raised his chin haughtily, glaring at his fellow students as he helped himself to breakfast. Severus chuckled softly at the fierce scowl on his son’s face. When Harry was annoyed, it was ridiculously easy to see himself in his son’s features. Lily gave them their own beautiful cast, it was true, but the expressions Harry made were nearly the same as Severus’ own.

 

“Surprised you’re laughing.” Harry admitted before biting into a piece of bacon. “I mean, it’s not like you to show any sort of weakness to the students.”

 

“Loving my son is not a weakness.” Severus corrected softly, aware that anyone close enough to hear would certainly be trying to do so. “Nor does showing my love for you make me weak. I will not pretend to be indifferent to you, Epi. Not for anyone’s benefit.”

 

Harry’s full lips curved up and his lashes swept down, shielding pleased green eyes. “Thanks.” He managed in a whisper before shooting Severus a sideways glance from under his lashes. “I love you, too, you know.”

 

Severus smirked back and nudged Harry’s leg with his foot under the table. “Eat your food, brat. You have class shortly.”

 

Harry nodded and resumed eating, content and soothed simply because of Severus’ presence. Harry knew he could go to Severus with anything and his father would do everything in his power to help. And even when he didn’t want to share the problems he was having, Severus would still help to soothe and comfort him as much as he could. No matter what, Harry wasn’t alone. Not anymore.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Harry was one of the first students to arrive for Charms. There were five rows of three individual desks each; Harry chose the seat dead-center. He wasn’t sure who he shared this class with, but whoever wanted to sit near him could. He wound up with Draco on one side and Neville on the other. Ron and Hermione were close by, one row back from Harry. Seamus and Lavender were both in Charms, along with a handful of Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, one of whom was Zacharias Smith. A single other Slytherin was in the class; one of the ones who was friends with Daphne – the redhead – but whom Harry hadn’t properly met yet. Not that he cared much who she was. Harry had never bothered to learn the names of all of his year-mates. If they didn’t play Quidditch or share his dorm – or pick fights with him – he couldn’t be bothered overly much.

 

Hell, Harry wasn’t even positive he could name everyone who’d been in the DA the year before. His lips twitched up as it occurred to him that Hermione probably knew the name of every student in their year, as well as where each one ranked grade-wise.

 

Professor Flitwick was going over their course-material for the year, but Harry wasn’t paying very much attention. He’d gone back to his normal pastime of sketching. Eyes, again. Draco’s eyes. All of them were furious, today. Narrowed in anger, heated, glaring. Brows pulled down low…

 

Harry glanced around for a moment after finishing his third pair of eyes. Deciding no one was paying him the slightest bit of attention, Harry worked on filling in the rest of Draco’s face. His nose, scrunched up in distaste as though he’d smelled something foul. His sharp cheekbones and pointed chin. The sharp point of his hairline, and the sweep of his hair. The way his lip curled, baring a flash of teeth and dripping disdain, when he sneered. Harry’s pencil flew across the paper, utterly focused on getting every last detail of Draco’s gorgeous, haughty, sneering face completely perfect.

 

He had just finished when Professor Flitwick asked him to demonstrate a charm he was good at. Harry sat, frozen, for a long moment. A charm he was good at…? Well, there were more than a few. He was actually really good at charms. But his mind was blank. Or rather, it was filled up with the image of Draco’s face. Flushing, Harry dropped his eyes to the paper in front of him. Neville glanced over, leaning to the side and dropping his eyes to the paper as well, obviously curious.

 

Determined not to let anyone see him sketching Draco, Harry touched his wand to the paper and snapped out quickly. “Incendio.”

 

Everyone sucked in a sharp breath – casting a flame charm on top of a wooden desk wasn’t exactly the smartest thing to do. But Harry had no trouble controlling the flame. It burned through the sketch swiftly and Harry put the flames out before they could damage the desk or anything else on it; his notes, his books, his other sketches…all of them were fine. And the sketch he’d chosen to burn was nothing but eyes, with black scorching the edges of the paper around them; a scrap of an image devoured by flames. Harry swallowed hard, fingers curled tight around his wand, refusing to meet anyone’s gaze; refusing to look up from the remnants of his drawing.

 

When Flitwick applauded, Harry winced. He still wouldn’t look up, even as his teacher’s squeaky voice praised him. “Well done, Epitome! Well done, indeed. That sort of control over a charm as destructive as incendio is most impressive.”

 

He moved on to the next student and Harry ran the tip of his finger over the burnt, blackened edges of the little bit of sketch left, studying the angry, accusatory eyes glaring up at him. Harry took a deep breath and shoved the scrap of paper inside one of his text books, trying to pretend his hand didn’t tremble. He pulled out a fresh piece of paper and picked up a fresh pencil, then pressed graphite to paper and began sketching again. This time, he was very deliberate. There was no passion behind this art; his hand moved with precision and control.

 

For some reason, the picture of Blaise’s exotically-beautiful face, complete with piercing golden-green eyes that Harry filled in with colored pencils, didn’t affect Harry the same way the image of Draco’s eyes could. Harry refused to think about _why._

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Harry stepped into the library at 11am and smiled sweetly at Madam Pince. She was waiting for him at a table that was laden with books. “Hello.” He greeted her softly as he stood in front of her, hands tucked nervously into his pockets. “I’m Epitome Snape.”

 

“Madam Pince.” The librarian said, in her crisp voice. Her tone wasn’t unfriendly or cold; just brisk. She seemed to Harry to be an incredibly efficient woman. “Now, you’ve got an independent study this period but with a specific focus. That’s rare.”

 

Harry nodded; Albus had explained this to him already. Madam Pince would assist him in finding the books and references he needed, but she wasn’t his instructor. Harry didn’t _have_ an instructor for this class. His time would be spent studying wandlore. He would learn about woods and cores. Their traits, how they were harvested, how they interacted…all in theory. Then, when he was better-versed, Ollivander would come and they would spend a little time working with the materials. Not much, since Harry wouldn’t be ready to make a wand just yet – Albus and Garrick had said he probably wouldn’t be able to make a functioning wand for another three years at least – but enough to get a feel for things. Harry was looking forward to learning.

 

“Professor Dumbledore explained that to me.” Harry said, voice still soft out of deference to their current location – and the other students who were studying around them – mostly Ravenclaws. “I’m eager to get started.”

 

Madam Pince smiled slightly, though it was tight-lipped and didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Good. These are the books you’ll be using. There are more than three copies of each of these in the library, so you can borrow them for the whole year. Any other reference material you need will need to be checked out the way a normal book is.”

 

Harry looked down at the three books she’d shoved closer to him and smiled widely. “Thank you, but I own all of those.” Seeing her surprise, he explained. “I asked Garrick – Mr. Ollivander, that is – what he recommended for reading up on wandmaking. I haven’t had a chance to get into any of them yet, but I do own them. And a couple of others.”

 

Pince nodded, still looking a bit surprised. “Well. That’s…good. Very good.” She considered him for a moment, then said. “You do not have an instructor for this period, Mr. Snape, but you will be expected to be here as-scheduled, regardless. If you are not, I will report that. If you attempt to nap when you are here, that will be reported as well. I do not tolerate slacking in my library.” When Harry simply nodded, she said. “You may take a seat.”

 

Harry hurried away to an empty table, without the books she’d offered him. He only had one of them in his bag, but that was okay. He had to start _somewhere_ after all. It was the one about woods; which woods made for what sort of wands and such. Harry flipped to the introduction and read a little bit about harvesting wand-wood and how it had to be done. He was a little surprised to learn that not every tree was suitable for wands, just as not every person was capable of magic. Only a fraction of trees were magical, just like only a fraction of people were. It all came down to statistics. You could pass a hundred dogwood trees, for instance, before finding one you could harvest from.

 

There were methods, of course, to determine if a tree was suitable. The easiest way, though was with bowtruckles. Harry vaguely remembered the little stick-like creatures – with their beady black eyes and bark-like skin – from Care of Magical Creatures. They lived in trees; specifically ones that had wood that was perfect for making wands. So if a tree was inhabited by a bowtruckle, then you knew that the wood was good. But you couldn’t just _take_ the wood. Apparently a gift had to be offered to the bowtruckle living there, in exchange for the wood that the wandmaker wanted to take. If the bowtruckle accepted the offered gift – which was usually something for them to snack on – then the witch or wizard in question could take the wood they needed. If the gift was rejected, then the bowtruckle would attack if they tried to take the wood. It was _fascinating._

 

And, before Harry knew it, his hour was up and it was time for lunch. Glancing at his watch and then at his schedule, Harry realized he had just enough time to grab a quick bite before he had to head to his next class. Perfect.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Harry had thought that his Creative Magic class had a strange set-up, but it was _nothing_ compared to his Intrinsic Magic class. There were no desks, or tables, or counters. There were no benches, or stools, or chairs. What there _was_ , were cushions. Ten of them, in a loose circle on the floor, around an eleventh cushion. Seated on the central cushion was Professor Vector; a tall, slender woman with salt-and-pepper hair and tawny eyes. She was smiling as her new students filed in and hesitantly sat on the large pillows on the floor.

 

The room was painted black. The ceiling, the walls, the floor…all of it. There were no windows and the only light came from torches on the walls, which threw dancing light and shadows across the darkness of the room. The cushions were all in soft, pastel colors. Pink, blue, green, yellow, purple; soft and subtle shades of various colors. Harry settled himself on a cushion the same shade of periwinkle as Hermione’s dress robes from the Yule Ball in fourth year; a color halfway between blue and purple. He sat with his legs folded, elbows resting on his knees and his chin perched in the cradle of his hands.

 

The orangey-pink cushion to Harry’s right was occupied by Millicent Bullstrode; the solid-looking Slytherin girl seemed oddly out-of-place, sitting on a large pinkish pillow on the floor. Harry didn’t really know any of the other students in the class. Or at least he didn’t know any of the ones who were already seated, despite two of the girls being Gryffindors from his year. When Draco walked in, Harry struggled to keep his face blank; inside he was cringing. He didn’t know _why,_ but Draco seemed intent on sitting next to Harry whenever possible. At first, Harry thought the blonde was just trying to piss off Blaise, but Draco didn’t seem to care if Blaise was around or not. It was…baffling, to say the least.

 

Sure enough, Draco sat beside Harry on the mint green cushion. He sprawled – lazy and indolent and relaxed – on his stomach, as though he were infinitely more comfortable than any of the rest of them with the idea of a class taught on the floor. Vector flashed a toothy grin at Draco, clearly approving of his immediate comfort level with the room’s setup, while Harry did his best to pretend the blonde wasn’t close enough to touch. Harry suspected he wouldn’t be able to concentrate properly with Draco relaxed and spread out beside him. He would need to switch seats the next time he had this class.

 

That plan was dashed by Professor Vector’s calm, quiet voice as she began the class. “You will retain these seating arrangements for the remainder of the year. Please take out your wands.”

 

Everyone obeyed and Vector waved her hand, levitating a basket slowly around the inside of their circle, her own wand nowhere in sight. “Everyone is to place their wand in the basket. Wands are not needed in my classroom.”

 

Hesitantly, everyone placed their wands into the basket as it floated in front of them. It was clear that no one _wanted_ to hand over such an integral part of them, but none of them dared disobey. Being without a wand meant being vulnerable; exposed. It wasn’t a pleasant feeling. Harry set his in last, hating the way his wand’s magic reached out, coiling around his wrist; clinging; needy. He dropped his wand on top of the others, ignoring the unpleasantness of the sensation. It was strange, because his wand had never reacted that way to being put down before. He wondered if it could tell Harry was planning to do magic without it. Harry decided that had to be the case. And judging by everyone’s faces, his wand wasn’t the only one acting up.

 

Vector smiled as she directed the basket of wands off to the side of the room, her own wand still out of sight as she spoke. “Intrinsic Magic is not something you learn the way you learn spells or charms, or even potions.” Her dark hair seemed to absorb the torchlight, while the gleaming silver strands lacing the black seemed to glow. “Intrinsic Magic comes from inside of a person. It is raw; wild; untamed. It is something you will need to find the key for on your own.

 

“Your first task in this class will be fairly simple.” Vector patted her own cushion. “You will turn your cushion white. Some of you will accomplish this task with greater ease than others, but don’t get discouraged if it takes a while. There is no set speed for this sort of learning.”

 

Harry glanced around and was relieved to see that he wasn’t the only one looking nervous. How, exactly, were they supposed to turn their pillows white?

 

“Now...begin.” Vector said, waving her hand in a vaguely dismissive gesture. “Let me know if any of you manage it.”

 

There were confused, aggrieved sounds from more than a couple of the students, but Professor Vector had closed her eyes and seemed to be meditating. Harry considered her for a moment before deciding that if _she_ was meditating, perhaps that was what _he_ ought to be doing. After all, an Animagi transformation was, essentially, intrinsic magic of a sort. No spell; no wand-waving...just the will of the person making the change and their magic doing the rest. It seemed like a place to start, anyway, which he figured was more than most of the class had.

 

So Harry closed his eyes and let his breathing even out. Five count to breathe in...five count to breathe out...five count to breathe in...over and over and over, again. Harry let his palms press flat against the cushion, bringing the color into his mind. Nothing else; just the color. The soft, blue-purple mix, filling his mind. He kept counting breaths as he started at the edges of his mind’s eyes and willed the color away. It was a slow process; leaching the periwinkle away wasn’t easy in the slightest.

 

Slowly, slowly, slowly, the color became his new focus. He stopped counting breaths; his body breathed on its own, without effort or thought from Harry. It was deep and even, like when he slept. The periwinkle filled him up, and Harry worked to wear it back down. Slowly, the edges of the image in his mind began to lighten. Slowly, slowly, slowly...

 

Periwinkle...lavender...the faintest, palest, barest _blush_ of purple...and then, finally, just around the outside edges, _white._ And inside the white, the blush of purple...and inside that, lavender...and then the center was periwinkle still. Harry kept pushing, pulling, leaching. The white crept further into the purple, slowly stealing color, like bleach soaking into fabric. The color bled away; slowly, slowly, slowly...the white took over. Or was revealed, Harry thought absently in a dim corner of his mind. The purple was a cover; something to be taken away, a little at a time, to reveal the purity of the white beneath it.

 

Professor Vector watched Epitome Snape with a small smile, pleased by his work. The boy was breathing, deep and even, clearly meditating. Sweat was dewing his skin; he shimmered like damp snow in the torchlight. His hair was slick and sticking to his face, though his expression was smooth and serene; peaceful. His magic moved around him, tugging and pulling, twisting and writhing; it was a tangible thing. Beneath him, his cushion was slowly turning white. It started at the outside edges, the white creeping slowly towards the center...slowly, but surely.

 

Vector’s eyes moved over the rest of the class, assessing. One of the Ravenclaw girls – Sue Li – was slowly lightening her yellow cushion. It was a splotchy sort of job, like tie-dye; not neat and tidy and precise like Epitome’s work. But progress was progress and duly noted. Draco Malfoy’s green cushion was turning white around the edges, but not nearly as quickly as Epitome’s. His process was clearly different as well, since his whole face was scrunched up in concentration, his breathing labored.

 

Epitome was letting the magic do the work, with meditation and simple focus – she could tell that right away. Draco was bending his magic to his will, with sheer stubborn determination. His method was brute force, which took longer than the finesse Epitome was using...for now. Once Draco got that muscle honed...well, he would be a lethal force. Epitome would have to work on his focus if he was to become masterful with this sort of magic...or he would have to learn to use brute force as well. Either way, both Slytherin boys showed _great_ potential.

 

Harry lost all track of time as he focused on what he wanted done; on the color-fade he was attempting to create; to will into being. So when Professor Vector’s voice broke into his concentration, announcing that it was time to go – that class was over – it startled him. He opened his eyes and was shocked to realize he was drenched in sweat. He didn’t feel warm – at least, not overly so – but his hair was sticking to his face and neck and his clothes were plastered uncomfortably to his skin. He felt sticky and unpleasant. His heart was thudding, rabbit-quick, in his chest, though he didn’t know why. He had just been...breathing.

 

Harry stood on legs that shook and felt like jelly, then nearly collapsed when he caught sight of the cushion he’d been sitting on. It was...white. Partly. The center was still purple. Actually, about half of the cushion’s fabric was still purple...the center-half. But _still_. Looking around, Harry realized that a couple of other students (one of whom was Draco) had managed to get part of their cushion to turn white as well, though Harry thought his was the furthest along in the process. He wondered if he’d have to start all over during the next class.

 

“Before you all leave...” Vector waved her hand and little tags appeared, pinned to each cushion, with the name of the student who was working on it scrawled across it. “You will continue with your work next class period. Feel free to practice, but do be careful.”

 

Another little flick of her wrist and the students’ wands went zipping back to their owners. “You are all dismissed.”

 

Harry walked slowly out of the classroom, wobbling a little on unsteady legs. He had no more classes for the day, so there was nowhere to rush to. Deciding to take a minute to stabilize, Harry slumped against the wall. Aware of eyes on him, Harry aimlessly rifled through his bag as though he were searching for something, though what anyone might have thought he’d misplaced was beyond him. A hand on his arm had him looking up, eyes locking with the pair he couldn’t get out of his head.

 

“Draco...” Harry breathed, eyes widening. “Er...hello. What’s up?”

 

Draco tipped his head to the side, just a little, and said softly. “You just don’t look well. I wanted to make sure you didn’t need any help.”

 

“Oh, no. I’m fine.” Harry reassured swiftly, green eyes wide and sincere. “I just didn’t realize how much it was taking out of me, doing that kind of magic. Once I eat and lay down for a little bit I’m sure I’ll be back to normal.”

 

Draco nodded, head still cocked slightly to the right, eyes sharp and searching. After a moment, he sighed and nodded again. “If you say so, Epi. Walk to the Great Hall together?”

 

And though he still felt off-balance from class, and a little uneasy around Draco, Harry nodded.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

“Blaise...” Harry murmured the protest around an ardent tongue, turning his head to break the kiss even as his hands pressed firmly against Blaise’s chest. When that talented mouth simply skimmed along his jaw, then moved on to his neck, Harry pushed a little harder and firmed his voice. “Blaise, wait...”

 

Hands cupped his ass, squeezing, and Harry squirmed, whining low in his throat. He pushed against his boyfriend’s chest again, shaking his head as he tried to shift off his lap. “I said _wait.”_

 

“Shhh...” Blaise crooned in his ear, one hand sliding up his bare back to wind the ebony length of Harry’s ponytail around his fist while his other hand got a firm hold on Harry’s hip. “Relax, love. I can make you feel good, if you’ll just let me.”

 

“I...I...” Harry whimpered as Blaise tugged on his hair. It made him feel weak and powerless and _trapped_ and he _hated_ it, but it also made him feel frozen in place; iced over with fear. “N-no...” He breathed, even as Blaise tightened his grip on Harry’s hip, just enough to sting. “Blaise, _stop._ ”

 

Blaise laughed softly, using his grip on Harry’s hair to tip the slightly-smaller teen’s face up. He captured Harry’s lips, full and cherry-red and kiss-swollen; slick, damp, and parted around denials and pleas. He ignored Harry’s words and devoured Harry’s trembling mouth. The kiss was harsh and brutal and unforgiving. It was a claiming; a demand. It was a breath away from violence. It was too-much tongue and the too-sharp bite of teeth and Harry felt his lip split under the force of the kiss, copper staining the flavor of Blaise’s tongue in his mouth. It was like being force-fed fear and pain and Harry felt tears burn the back of his eyes.

 

Tearing his mouth away, Harry once again tried to scramble off of Blaise’s lap. His boyfriend’s grip tightened again and Harry cried out, loudly and in pain, as the delicate skin of his hip bruised beneath Blaise’s fingers. Fury mounting now as pain burned through his fear, Harry’s magic sparked to life. It crackled along his skin like electricity, purple and white and heated, and Blaise cried out, releasing Harry as though he’d been burned. Or, more likely, _shocked._

 

Between Blaise jerking away from Harry’s skin, and Harry’s own frantic squirming, the former-Gryffindor wound up tumbling off of both Blaise’s lap _and_ Blaise’s bed, onto the cold, hard stone floor of the dorm room. Harry cried out again as his tailbone met the stone sharply, jarring his whole body with painful aftershocks. His magic stopped sparking, his rage melting away as the pain robbed him of both breath and concentration.

 

Blaise was cursing softly under his breath, studying his own hands and arms with a concerned and annoyed look. He shot a cold look at Harry and snapped. “What in the name of Salazar is your problem, Epitome? It’s one thing for you to act like a tease, never making up your mind about pulling me closer or pushing me away, but _attacking_ me? Really? Are you _mad?”_

 

“A...a _tease?”_ Harry gasped, his mind latching on to that and nothing else, though a part of him was bristling at being called insane. “I am not! I...Blaise, why would you say...I’m not trying to...to be a...to lead you on or...I just...”

 

Harry stammered and stuttered, tears filling his eyes at the combination of lingering pain from the fall, and hurt that Blaise seemed determined to misunderstand him so completely. “I don’t know what I’m doing...” Harry finally managed to whisper, shoulders slumping as he deflated, curling in on himself right there on the floor of the dorm. “You _know_ that I’ve never been with someone. I’m not...ready yet.”

 

Blaise let out a long-suffering sigh, then got off the bed to crouch beside Harry, looking sympathetic and a little bit mournful. “Oh, Epi...I know. I know you don’t _mea_ n to tease me. And that’s why I’ve tried to be patient with you.” Blaise reached out, tipping that beautiful, tear-streaked face up, locking gazes with the younger boy. “But you’re so beautiful, my pet, and I can’t help wanting you. You kiss me so passionately, and your skin tastes so sweet...”

 

Blaise’s voice had dropped to a husky, seductive murmur and Harry’s breath shuddered in and out in trembling little bursts, eyes wide and unable to look away from that glittering golden-green gaze. “I love how sweet you are, pet...how innocent. You are _mine_ , and _only_ mine. But it’s hard for me to wait...to be so close and not have you fully. Do you understand?”

 

“Y-yes...” Harry breathed, nodding as best he could with Blaise’s fingers still curled firmly around his chin, tipping his head back. “I’m sorry. I...I didn’t mean to hurt you. My magic...it gets out of control sometimes and I...I’m sorry.”

 

Blaise smiled forgivingly; generously. “I understand.” He cooed, leaning down and brushing his lips tenderly over Harry’s still-sore mouth. “Poor love. It’s alright.” He released Harry’s chin with a sigh and added. “You should go to sleep, pet. You look a mess.”

 

Harry blushed, dropping his chin to his chest; he was sure Blaise was right. His eyes were probably bloodshot and puffy from trying not to cry and he hadn’t been sleeping well so he probably had circles under his eyes, and honestly it was a wonder Blaise wanted him at all when he was all sniffly and disheveled and such. Sniffing loudly and scrubbing his hands over his damp face, Harry decided bed really was the best option.

 

Eyes locked firmly on the floor, Harry got gingerly to his feet and moved away from Blaise’s bed. He climbed onto his own, glancing back at Blaise only once, to find the older Slytherin watching him with a tender smile and pitying eyes. Biting his lower lip – unintentionally making it bleed again – Harry dropped his eyes again and tugged his curtains shut. He felt miserable; like he’d swallowed a ball of ice. His felt cold inside, and heavy, and unhappy. Closing his eyes and curling up around one of his pillows, Harry drifted into a fitful sleep.

 

If he had thought about it for a moment, instead of simply accepting the way he felt, maybe it would have occurred to Harry that the last time he’d fallen asleep feeling quite this poorly had been when he was ten years old and living in the cupboard under the stairs. Back when he’d felt small and worthless all of the time, wondering if anyone would ever love him because surely, _surely_ something was wrong with him; surely he had done something to deserve being treated this way.

 

If he had thought about it for a moment, Harry might have realized that, just like when he was a child, _he_ was not the one at fault.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was especially-difficult for me to write, for personal reasons. When I was a child, my life was...not always as pleasant as a child's _should_ be. And when I was 15, I let a boy convince me that he loved me, even when he pressed bruises into my skin and told me how worthless I was, and how lucky I was that he even _looked_ at me, let alone loved me. When that sort of love is all you've known - when there's nothing to counteract it (and believe me when I say that a few years of good friends is _not_ enough to heal years of damage) - then it's very easy to forget what even basic kindness feels like; it's very easy to not remember that you have worth.
> 
> They say that if you drop a frog into a pot of boiling water, it will immediately hop out (or at least give a damned good try). If, however, you place a frog into warm water and slowly heat it up until it's boiling, the frog will stay in the pot until it dies. And _that_ is the essence of an abusive relationship. Blaise started out loving, and sweet, and perfectly wonderful. He has slowly grown vicious and cruel and hurtful, but he masks it with sweet words, apologies, and clever excuses that make Harry feel like _he_ is the guilty one. And that's how it happens; how it works. While it is easy for you, the reader, to discern that what Blaise is saying and doing is W-R-O-N-G, in all caps, written in flashing neon letters...for Harry, it's not that simple. He believes what Blaise is telling him; that he's the one who's wrong and that he's hurting Blaise with his behavior and refusals. This is standard for an abused partner, and it's not easy to break the cycle, believe me.
> 
> I hope none of you blames poor Harry, or faults him for this. Please, bear with me (and Harry) for just a little while longer, as we see this Blaise-thing through.
> 
> As to Blaise himself - I cannot begin to fathom (or explain) what goes on in the mind of an abusive partner. I never asked my ex why he did what he did, nor do I ever intend to. I don't particularly care to know. I _can_ say that a lot of it was about having power over another person; power and control. I can also say that part of his twisted joy at having me chained to his side was his pride over having trapped me there, without me even realizing it was happening until it was done. I do not pretend to understand people like my ex - like Blaise - but I do understand how they work; how they break you down, a little at a time, into manageable pieces, and then put you back together in the way that best suits them. This behavior is slow, and insidious, and it shatters things you can't ever fix quite right.
> 
> But Harry is strong (in ways it took me a long time to be) and he is not so easily broken, so please do not fear for him. He will come out of this with his self-worth mostly intact, and our beloved Draco will help him heal! Just...stick with me for a few more chapters and we'll start to see a light at the end of this tunnel, I swear!
> 
> Remember, comments are love! <3 ~ LS


	10. Chapter Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains two different movie references, to two different movies. One is at the very start of the chapter, the second is at the very end of the chapter. And both made me giggle, for no real reason. If you recognize them, let me know! I might reward the first person who figures them out with a prize. ^_~ (For those who don't know - my prizes are fan-freakin'-tastic, lol.)
> 
> Also, this chapter contains graphic Blaise/Harry. It's not full-on-sex, but it's some heavy petting, under clothing, and I'd probably give it a Hard-R rating, in-and-of-itself. There's also more mentions of abusive tendencies, and for the first time we see Harry start to fight back. He's not all the way there yet (and we see more of his denial too), but it's a solid step in the right direction for our darling boy! <3 The end of them is definitely in sight for you guys.
> 
> There's also some self-love going on with Harry. So yay for yummy moments! ^_^
> 
> Comments are love, and happy reading. <3 ~ LS

The rest of Harry’s first week of classes sped by in a blur. A stressful, surreal blur. Homework was assigned, though Harry didn’t mind overly much. None of it was hard. In Intrinsic Magic, Harry turned his entire cushion white before working on turning it purple again, which was somehow even _harder_ though he hadn’t known that was possible. In Creative Magic, they were given reading to do and no one was actually allowed to use magic yet, which made Harry feel restless and impatient even if he understood that they needed to know theory _before_ they tried anything practical.

Harry only had Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures one out of every four times the other NEWT-level students did, but that was okay. He wasn’t actually getting a proper NEWT in either class. He was just there to learn the proper ways to handle wand materials - harvesting woods, and wand cores, and learning what magical properties things had that could be possibly used as wand cores if he didn’t want to use just the three that Ollivander did. Harry worked independent of the other students those two classes, with his own books and tools and supplies, asking questions of Sprout or Hagrid as-needed.

Draco still followed him around, sitting close to him whenever possible, but he didn’t talk to Epi. He just sat there, near him, quite-often scowling. It wasn’t unpleasant, really, to be so-often in Draco’s company, but it was strange. Harry wished he knew what to say to ease the tension between them; the living, crackling thing that seemed to spark through the air whenever the two of them were near each other. It was made worse when Blaise was there, too. And Blaise was a whole other source of stress; one of a much more painful sort, in fact.

Harry didn’t understand how every time he thought he’d fixed things with his boyfriend, they would break again. How was it possible to break the same thing so many times? But it just _kept happening._ Harry would wind up upset, his chest and throat tight, eyes stinging with tears, and apologizing for angering Blaise; for pushing him away. And Blaise would sigh and pet his hair and forgive him, because Blaise was the kindest, most patient, most forgiving person Harry had ever met and then, somehow, Harry would manage to fuck it all up again the next time they were alone. It was frustrating and stressful and all-around awful, and Harry wished he was better at relationships because this _sucked._ But at least Blaise didn’t seem to hold it against him; he always accepted Harry’s apologies and then pretended the fight hadn’t happened.

Still, by the time Harry left Charms on Friday evening he just wanted to curl up in his bed and hide for the whole weekend. Which he couldn’t actually do. Harry had training with Sirius and Remus on Friday night, and more training with Remus on Saturday night, and the tryouts for Quidditch were on Saturday. Not to mention he had homework to work on, though Harry supposed he could hide in his bed while doing that if he really wanted to. It was frustrating, though, to know he couldn’t even take a few days to himself to try to sort everything out.

Harry ate his dinner in silence, as quickly as he could, then headed back to his dorm room. He wanted to work on his Charms homework before he had to go to training. Since most of the students were still eating, Harry figured he could work in peace for a little while and get more done than if he was surrounded by his classmates. For all that they often seemed reserved and poised in public, Harry had discovered that the Slytherins were often just as loud and boisterous as the Gryffindors.

When Blaise wandered in - a little more than an hour before Harry had to leave - Harry was finished with Charms and had moved on to reading through his Creative Magic text. His brow was furrowed with concentration; the concepts behind the magic were a lot harder than typical spellwork. It was similar to Intrinsic Magic, in fact, though the desired outcomes were often different. Creative Magic worked with specific materials to build or design something; Intrinsic Magic was used for things like healing and assessing other magic and analyzing bonds and enchantments and such. Similar, yes, but wholly unique, and Harry’s head was _throbbing_ trying to make sense of it all.

So Harry barely noted Blaise’s entrance until the older teen was sitting beside him. “Epi?” He carded his fingers through Harry’s hair, smiling at the way Harry blinked glassy green eyes and tried to focus on his face. “You okay?”

“Hmmm?” Harry nodded after a moment, smiling weakly. “Yeah, no, I’m fine. This is just...some really heavy coursework, is all. I didn’t realize how complicated all of it was going to be.”

Blaise nodded, then tugged the book away from Harry. He set it on the nightstand and asked. “You have another class of some sort tonight, don’t you? It says something like _‘Special Lessons’_ on your schedule, with question marks for your teachers...”

Harry’s eyes widened; he’d forgotten his lessons with Sirius and Remus were on the schedule he’d copied for Blaise on Monday. “Oh, yeah, it’s...you know, because of Dad...” Harry stammered, feeling his cheeks flush darkly. “I, er...I’m not supposed to talk about it.”

“That’s fine.” Blaise assured him, smiling sweetly. “I was just wondering what time you expected to be back around. Do you want me to wait up for you? We can...spend some time together then. If you want.”

“Oh!” Harry’s eyes brightened, his whole face lighting up as he smiled. “That’s sweet. I’d like that, if you aren’t too tired...”

Blaise laughed, leaning in to press a light kiss to Harry’s mouth. “I’m sure I can manage. Maybe I’ll take a nap while you’re gone.”

“Mmmm...” Harry nodded, then flicked his eyes back to his books. “Well, since we’ve got a date later tonight, would you mind if I went back to my homework right now?” He gave Blaise an apologetic look. “I really do need to study.”

But for once Blaise didn’t seem angry. He just kept smiling. “Of course, Epi. I’ll see you later.” He gave Harry another quick kiss, passed Harry’s book back to him, then walked out of the dorm room, whistling cheerfully the whole way.

Harry frowned over the oddness of his behavior, then shrugged it off. Perhaps all he’d had to do was set aside time for Blaise to make the other boy happy. They had agreed they didn’t need to spend every minute together, after all. Harry smiled a little to himself as he decided that yes, that was all Blaise had needed; some time set aside for just the two of them. He just wanted to be assured that Harry cared about him, and was making him a priority. Maybe this whole relationship thing wasn’t as hard as Harry had originally believed it to be.

Harry went back to his book with a small, pleased smile curving his lips.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Draco walked in as Harry was stripping down. His clothes didn’t matter much for meditating during Animagi practice, but for dueling his uniform wasn’t the best. True, he would eventually need to learn to roll and tumble and such while wearing robes, but for now it was better to train in what Ardeth called “fighting clothes”. Harry was focused on his leather pants, which molded to him like a second skin, bending and stretching when he did, allowing him almost as much freedom of movement as if he were naked. Harry loved them, but they required him to bounce up and down a little on the balls of his feet while yanking on the waistband of the pants in order to get them up.

Harry was doing just that when Draco walked in and he ignored the snort of amusement in favor of a couple more yanks and another good bounce. With a last little grunt, Harry’s pants were finally in the right place and ready to be buttoned. He turned around to face Draco, waiting for the jokes he knew were coming. Draco had a wicked sense of a humor, and a sharp tongue, and Harry often enjoyed his snide remarks. He’d let Draco say his bit, make a smartass comment or two back, then finish dressing.

Harry had barely finished turning when Draco sucked in a sharp breath, anger splashing across his face. It stunned Harry, making him take a quick step back; what had he done? “Draco?”

 “Who did that to you?” Draco demanded and, for a single heartbeat’s duration, Harry had absolutely no idea what the blonde was talking about. Then Draco _pointed._ “Who?”

Harry’s gaze followed Draco’s finger to his own left hip and he winced when he spotted the top of the bruise; the one in the shape of Blaise’s hand. It was a sickly yellow and pale green around the edges now, well on it’s way to healing, but it still looked nasty. He brought his hand down, letting it ghost lightly over the marks; they no longer ached when touched, so that was good. Unfortunately, the movement showed off the newer, fresher bruises Harry had on his upper right arm...also in the shape of Blaise’s fingerprints. _Those_ were from the day before, during his most recent fight with Blaise.

Not that Harry thought Blaise had _meant_ to hurt him. He just bruised so easily these days that when Blaise gripped even the littlest bit too roughly, Harry marked up. It wasn’t his boyfriend’s fault.

 Draco didn’t look like he was going to listen to Harry’s explanations, though.

Feeling his face flush, Harry struggled to keep it blank and his voice steady as he replied. If he got angry or defensive, Draco would stop listening. “I bruise easily, Draco. Fair skin and all. I’m certain you’ve got the same problem, right?”

Draco studied the marks carefully for several  long minutes, then locked icy grey eyes on Harry’s emerald green ones. With his face coldly furious, and his voice a frigid whisper, Draco hissed. “If you want to lie to everyone else, _fine._ But you... _you said_ over the summer that you considered me to be one of your _best_ friends. And best friends _do not lie to each other.”_

Harry flushed darker, but this time in anger. “How _dare_ you!” He spat, glaring heatedly. “Blaise didn’t...he didn’t _mean_ to hurt me, okay? He didn’t! And it’s absolutely none of your business if...if things between me and him get...rough.”

Draco’s whole face went blank in the blink of an eye. Harry’s own widened, because he suddenly realized how his words would sound to Draco. He stammered for a moment, trying to backtrack. “D-Draco, I...that’s not what...”

“Shut up.”

If Draco had yelled, maybe Harry would have kept talking; kept defending himself. But Draco had whispered the words, soft and controlled. And Harry knew, after getting to know Draco over the summer, that Draco only got quiet when he was hurting over something. It was how Draco sounded when he talked about the possibility of becoming a Death Eater; when he talked about Lucius; when he talked about the future. It wasn’t something Harry knew how to fix, either. A Draco who was hurting was typically a Draco who wanted to be left alone.

And Harry had lessons, in just a little while.

Harry jerked the ties on his pants shut, knotting them with quick, rough movements. Then he snatched up the skin-tight black tee-shirt he’d laid out and yanked that on. A few quick motions and his hair was pulled back in a low ponytail. He pulled on his shoes, strapped his wand holster to his forearm, slid his wand into place, then turned to lock eyes with Draco. The blonde was standing there, frozen and silent, breathing heavily.

 Harry swallowed hard, then shook his head and walked past Draco towards the door. Once there he paused, just for a moment, and - without really knowing why - he murmured. “I’m sorry.”

Then he was gone.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Harry breathed as deeply and evenly as he could during his Animagi training, but it was a struggle to calm himself after fighting with Draco. Dueling was much easier, once the evening progressed to that point. He channeled his helpless anger – his frustrated rage – into his spells; into his movements. The others watched in awe as Harry twirled, spun, rolled, ducked, and otherwise evaded or dodged every spell Sirius and Remus threw at him. Harry was all fluid grace and lethal energy, and when he cast his spells were strong and his aim true.

Remus and Sirius were both sweating, and Sirius was breathing heavily, from the exertion of defending against Harry's attacks. Harry, in counter-point, was only perspiring slightly and his breathing was barely labored. His verdant eyes were narrowed in concentrated determination as he kept moving; kept casting; kept _going._ He was an unstoppable force. Finally, after a long while, Sirius and Remus called a halt to the session.

Harry blinked once, twice, and then rose from the crouch he’d dropped into a moment earlier. His heart was pounding in his ears, and his skin felt too-tight; he felt jittery and restless and _violent._ “Why are we stopping?”

Sirius huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. “Because, Snape, you’re dueling old men and we’re a bit worn down.” He shot Harry an incredulous look and added. “What the hell has gotten into you tonight?”

Harry blinked, then shrugged as though discomfited. “I’m just focused is all. What’s the point of training if I don’t do my best?” His tone was defensive, but he couldn’t seem to help it.

“We’re not criticizing your energy, or your skill.” Remus said softly, setting down the empty glass he’d just drained of water. “You did a fantastic job, Epi. But if you’re going to keep progressing, we might need to have Ardeth come in and train with you as well. And possibly others. You handled two opponents at once with no trouble, after all.”

Remus tipped his head to the side and added. “If you can repeat tonight’s performance consistently, I’ll talk to Albus about advancing your sessions.”

Harry nodded, cheeks flushing. Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Luna, and Neville all crowded close to praise him on his skill, with Hermione questioning him on a few of the spells he’d used. Harry waved them off, saying he was tired and just wanted to get some sleep since he was done for the night. He left the others still training, deciding to stop for a shower since he had another half hour or so before Blaise would be expecting him. No point in showing up for their ‘date’ sweaty and gross.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Harry groaned low in his throat, wondering absently if Blaise had set privacy spells around his bed. He didn’t see why Blaise wouldn’t have, but maybe he should check…just to be sure. The thought didn’t last long, as Blaise’s mouth shifted from his neck to his collarbone, eliciting another throaty sound. Harry’s hands fisted in the sheets beneath him, his hips arching up. He pressed himself against the firm weight of Blaise’s body above him, needy and aching.

Blaise laughed softly, the edge of his teeth pressing into Harry’s skin as he grinned into Harry’s shoulder, clearly pleased by the responsive teen beneath him. “Patience, love.” Blaise crooned, his voice low and devilish and amused.

“I…nggghh…” Harry whined, head twisting restlessly as he arched his back again. His hands came up around Blaise’s back, nails biting into the sweat-slicked skin of the older teen’s shoulders. “I just… _please,_ Blaise…”

Blaise laughed again, nuzzling Harry’s neck even as he slipped one hand between their bodies. His deft fingers swiftly untied the laces on Harry’s leather pants as he savored the gasps and moans spilling from Harry’s full lips.

Blaise didn’t know why his boyfriend was suddenly so eager; so completely and totally passionate; utterly abandoned in his actions. But he wasn’t complaining. This was precisely how he’d wanted the younger boy since the first time he’d seen him. Wild and begging beneath him; out of his mind with need. It was deliciously perfect.

Harry’s stomach muscles jumped under Blaise’s skilled touch, his hips rolling up into the older boy. His arousal pressed into Blaise’s own hard cock for a moment and Harry whined. Blaise nuzzled into his neck, mouthing his way up towards Harry’s ear, and then a hand was sliding beneath leather; seeking out silky skin. Harry gasped, head falling back, eyes rolling back in his head as Blaise’s hand curled around his cock. Blaise chuckled in his ear, teeth nipping lightly at the top curve of cartilage, amused and pleased by Harry’s responsiveness.

Harry felt heated; eager; desperate. The thrumming energy that had driven him during training hadn’t subsided by the time he’d finished showering and returned to the dorm. He had been oblivious to the looks he’d received as he passed through the Common Room, intent only on getting to Blaise. When he’d gotten into the dorm, Blaise had smiled and started to greet him; Harry’s tongue had cut him off. He had devoured Blaise’s mouth, then allowed the other Slytherin to press him back onto the mattress, shutting the curtains around them as they shed their shirts. And now Harry had a hand on his cock, and Blaise’s firm body against him, and it just _wasn’t enough._

Harry’s hands stroked heatedly over the smooth, slick skin of Blaise’s back. Lunging up, heat racing through his blood like wildfire, Harry pressed his lips to Blaise’s shoulder. His tongue came out, tasting salt and soap and skin, and he moaned. His hands shifted lower on Blaise’s back, then slipped beneath the loose cotton of his sleep pants. Blaise growled, tightening his grip on Harry’s cock as he stroked, thumb sliding intermittently over the slick head, teasing him.

Harry gripped Blaise’s ass for a moment, squeezing just a little roughly, then he shifted his grip to Blaise’s slim hips. Tensing his muscles for a moment, Harry used a maneuver he’d learned in training to roll the two of them over without dislodging Blaise’s hand from its delightful ministrations. Blaise sucked in a stunned breath when he was suddenly on his back, with Harry straddling his stomach. Harry grinned down at him, all teeth, eyes dark and dangerous. He captured Blaise’s wrist and gently dragged the older teen’s hand away from his cock, eyes following the way Blaise’s lips parted in surprise at the action.

With a low growl in his voice, Harry leaned down and said. “I want you.”

Blaise smiled, slow and seductive, then purred. “And I want you, Epi.” His hands came up, palming Harry’s ass through the supple leather clinging to it, and added. “Take these off, pet. I can’t wait to feel your hot little body around my cock.”

Harry blinked, then sat straight up, frowning. “What?”

Blaise quirked an eyebrow, lips pursing for a moment before he said slowly. “My cock, Epitome. I want to feel your gorgeous arse around my cock. That _is_ how this works, you know.”

Harry huffed out a disbelieving little sound, then asked incredulously. “Well, who said you were the one who would be topping?”

“You’re joking.” Blaise laughed for a moment, but it died when Harry’s face darkened with anger. “Sweet Salazar, Epitome, you’re _serious?"_ He shook his head. “No. I’m the more experienced partner. Not to mention, I _do not_ bottom.”

Harry’s body went from aroused to furious in the beat of a heart; he was so _sick_ of Blaise acting like Harry was an attractive little trinket for him to collect; like he was somehow weaker than Blaise simply because he was _pretty._ “I’m stronger.” Harry snapped, all but vibrating with fury. “Both physically _and_ magically, plus I’ve been trained to fight which means I could _easily_ overpower you. Logically that makes me at least equally capable of topping, experience or not.”

“You’re being absurd.” Blaise shoved Harry off of him, glaring right back at the furious former-Gryffindor boy. “What in the world would give you the impression I might bottom?”

“The fact that you said you cared about me, for one thing!” Harry threw back, refusing to back down for once. Blaise had _no right_ to assume Harry would be the one bottoming, without them ever having discussed it before. “You never said you were exclusively a top, Blaise. I think that’s the sort of thing you should have told me.”

“Yes, because _you_ informed _me_ that you were set on topping.” Blaise sneered, sarcasm dripping from his words like disdain.

“I wasn’t _set_ on topping.” Harry threw back, words sharp and cutting. “I figured that was something we’d talk about when the time came. I figured we’d _switch._ Obviously I was wrong, about a lot of things.”

Harry moved to get off the bed, too angry to talk to Blaise anymore, but a hand curled around his bicep stopped him. He shot a venomous look at Blaise. “I suggest you let go. _Now.”_

“Don’t leave.” Blaise gave Harry a pleading look, golden-green eyes soft and sad. “I don’t want to fight with you, okay? I’m sorry for assuming. I’m just not comfortable as a bottom. I had thought that aspect of my personality was quite obvious.”

“Meaning what, exactly? That because you’re a possessive, domineering prat I ought to have expected this?” Harry snapped, jerking his arm away; his temper was in full swing, fueled by his earlier fight with Draco and the training session that had only made him feel _more_ aggressive.

Blaise grabbed Harry’s hand next, twining their fingers together, eyes still soft and sad. “I just meant that I value being in control.” Blaise said softly; apologetically. “Epi, please. I don’t want you to leave while you’re angry with me. Obviously this is something we need to talk about. So let’s talk.”

Harry hesitated for a moment, then grabbed Blaise by the chin. He leaned in, crushing their mouths together angrily; kissing the other teen hard and fierce and furious. When he raised his head a moment later, both of them were breathing raggedly. “I am _not_ some sort of pushover.” Harry snarled, still angry but feeling a bit more in control. “And I don’t want to talk right now.”

Blaise nodded slowly, looking a little dazed. “I just…”

“I know.” Harry cut him off sharply. “Okay? I _know._ But I need to cool down. So…we’re fine. You, me, _us;_ it’s all fine. We’ll talk about this again soon. Just…let me calm down.”

“Of course.” Blaise agreed demurely, dropping his eyes to the bed. “I’m sorry.”

Harry sighed, feeling like the worst sort of jackass just then. Letting his face soften for a moment, he reached out and tipped Blaise’s face up. “We’ll talk tomorrow, okay?” When Blaise nodded, Harry leaned in and brushed his mouth lightly over Blaise’s. “Goodnight, Blaise.”

Blaise sighed against his lips, eyes fluttering shut for a moment. In a breathless voice, he bid Harry goodnight. Harry slipped out of the curtained area with a soft smile on his lips, though he wasn’t sure why. He and Blaise had just had _another_ fight. Though Harry had to admit that this one had gone quite a bit differently than normal. Maybe all he’d had to do to get Blaise to compromise was assert himself and his feelings.

Harry was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn’t notice someone watching him as he left Blaise’s bed to return to his own.

But dark blue eyes noted Harry’s disheveled state – his lack of shirt and shoes; his mussed hair; his unlaced pants; his kiss-swollen lips; the red spots and teeth marks on his neck and shoulders. More than that, they noted the strange smile on Harry’s full lips, and his distinct lack of arousal, because an erection would have been more than obvious in his tight leather pants. And as Harry shucked said pants and climbed into his own curtained bed, Theodore Nott shook his head sadly. He honestly felt a little bit bad for Snape’s son; the kid obviously had no idea that he had just allowed himself to become Blaise Zabini’s latest conquest.

And despite feeling bad for him, Theo had no intention of being the one to tell him.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Harry woke up on Saturday morning feeling lazy. Lazy…and horny. Sleepily, his mind still dream-fogged, Harry slid his hand beneath the sheets and curled his fingers around his hard cock. He groaned softly at the feeling, knowing his privacy charms were firmly in place and he didn’t have to worry about being quiet. It was one of his favorite things about magic. There might be five other boys in the room, sleeping or studying or whatever else, but none of them would ever know what he was doing behind in the privacy of his own bed; not even if he screamed.

Harry released his cock long enough to bring his hand up to his mouth, tongue dragging wetly across his palm. He ignored the bitter, salty taste as it burst across his tongue, focusing instead on getting his skin wet. Then he curled his hand tightly around his cock again, groaning louder as he began stroking. Harry closed his eyes, hand moving quickly over his own hard flesh. He let his thumb slide over the head, dragging more moisture down over the rest of his cock, easing the way again as his saliva dried. He remembered the way Blaise had done this the night before, his hand clever and knowing. Harry silently cursed himself for the strange mood that had made him try to rush into things he knew he wasn’t ready for, rather than simply letting Blaise finish him off with his hand.

Pushing thoughts of their fight out of his mind, Harry tried to remember all of the details of the night before. He brought to mind just how Blaise’s skin had felt under his hands, sweat-slicked and smooth; the way Blaise’s hand had felt on his cock, confident and sure and oh-so-skilled. He brought an image of Blaise’s face, eyes bright with arousal and lips damp and puffy from kissing, to the front of his mind, and stroked a little faster.

As Harry’s hand sped up, the image of Blaise faltered before fading into a new one.

Grey eyes, dark and heated, pupils blown wide with lust. Gunmetal grey disappearing for a moment as golden lashes swept down, fluttering in soft curls against pale cheeks before raising again to reveal that heated gaze once more. Harry whimpered, hand tightening just a little on his cock. In his mind, petal-pink lips parted, a tongue darting out to slick moisture over the bottom curve of that luscious mouth. Harry remembered how soft those lips had been against his skin; how hot and wet and _perfect_ that mouth had felt around his thumb. Harry remembered those cheeks hollowing as Draco _sucked_ and the long, liquid pull low in his belly in response.

Hand still moving, Harry imagined that kewpie-doll mouth opening, not for his thumb but for his cock. It was impossible for Harry _not_ to imagine the way Draco’s full lips would look, stretched wide around his flesh, sucking until those cheeks hollowed again. He imagined that wicked tongue, lapping at his erection the way it had lapped at his thumb; tasting him in an entirely different way. He pictured those wide grey eyes, dark with desire, staring up at him; showing Harry just how much he wanted his cock.

With a low, hoarse shout Harry spilled himself over his pumping fist, making a mess of his belly and hand and the sheets.

Then, with a miserable groan, Harry squeezed his eyes tightly shut and tried to banish the image of Draco Malfoy on his knees, sucking cock. He should _not_ be thinking of Draco that way; especially not while he was tossing one off. It was _wrong._

Reaching for his wand to spell away his mess, Harry made a very firm promise to himself that next time he would think _only_ of Blaise.

Some things are far easier said than done.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Harry touched down in the center of the pitch, ignoring the deafening cheers of the Slytherins around him, and the groans of the spectators from the other three Houses. His Fiendfyre had performed to perfection, exactly as he’d expected it to. And it was _so_ much easier to fly now that he didn’t have glasses anymore; no worries about glares on the glass reflecting sun into his eyes. Not to mention that his goggles fit so much better without them. He stood there, broom in hand, awaiting judgement.

There was a long pause, then the Captain - who just happened to be a gorgeous blonde with grey eyes and a devilish smile - laughed and clapped his hands in admiration. “Beautiful job, Epitome. _Beautiful._ You don’t object to being a Chaser, do you?”

Harry blinked, because he’d never played any position except for Seeker, but he’d had a feeling Draco wouldn’t be relinquishing his position any time soon. After a moment, he smirked. “Not in the slightest, though I’ve never been a proper Chaser before; only in pick-up, three-on-three games.”

Draco laughed again, then walked up to Harry and nudged him with his shoulder. “Oh, you’ll do fine. With your speed and control, as long as you don’t drop the damned ball you’ll be unstoppable.”

Harry laughed back, giving Draco’s shoulder a quick nudge back with his side. “I’m sure I’ll be fine. I’m going to go sit down in the stands to watch the rest of the tryouts."

“Don’t.” Draco said, stopping him as he started to turn away. Seeing the confusion on his friend’s face, Draco continued. “I want you to stay and watch with me. Give me your opinion on the others.”

Harry grinned and nodded. “Sure. Let’s see what they’ve got.”

Quidditch, Harry decided as he watched the new hopefuls take flight, was _always_ good, and not a damned thing could ruin it. Not. One. Damned. Thing.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Harry worked diligently on his homework after Quidditch try outs, despite Draco asking if he wanted to go flying. Harry didn’t want to fall behind, and he didn’t have Hermione to copy off of anymore. Not that he didn’t think she would help him if he asked, because she would, but being allowed to copy was a special ‘Harry-Potter-related-incident’ privilege. And he wasn’t Harry Potter anymore. Once he’d finished most of his school work, Harry felt like he should make up for his inattention during Animagi training the night before and settled down to meditate.

He was so deeply entranced that he didn’t hear the door open, nor did he hear Blaise calling his name. He _did_ notice when Blaise sat down on his bed though, causing him to sit up abruptly with a deep gasp of surprise. “I’m sorry!” Blaise was immediately apologetic. “Were you sleeping? I didn’t mean to wake you up, or startle you.”

Harry sucked in another deep breath, then shook his head. “No, no. It’s fine. You’re fine. I was just…resting my eyes. I must have dozed off.” He waved his hand dismissively. “Nothing to be sorry for; promise. What’s up?”

“We were going to talk…” Blaise reminded him softly, face open and earnest. “About…about what happened last night.”

“Oh. Right. I…I forgot.” Harry puffed up his cheeks for a moment, then let the air out slowly before speaking again. “Okay, look, I know I reacted a bit…dramatically. I just don’t like this habit you have of assuming things. Like I’m just automatically going to go along with whatever you want, no questions asked.”

Blaise nodded, reaching out and tangling the fingers of one hand with Harry’s. “I get that. And I’m sorry, Epi. I’m going to work on that, I swear.” He gave Harry’s hand a little squeeze and added. “I’m just as new to relationships as you are, you know. But I _am_ trying.”

Harry smiled and kissed Blaise, quick and light. “I know you are.” He assured the other teen. “And I really appreciate it.”

“So…” Blaise trailed off, looking at Harry expectantly.

 _"So,_ I’m not mad. But I’ve got my first Quidditch practice in an hour or so, and I need to eat before then, and I’ve got another special lesson this evening, and I…I’m just really busy right now.” Harry smiled apologetically. _"So,_ if we could talk about the whole top-bottom thing another day, then great. Because I just…I don’t have time, right this second.”

Blaise smiled, though he was gritting his teeth; Epitome was proving to be a hell of a lot more trouble than he’d anticipated. “Of course.” He managed softly. “Just let me know when.”

“Thank you.” Harry pressed another soft kiss to Blaise’s mouth, smiling easily. “I appreciate the patience, Blaise. I know this whole waiting thing is new for you, but it means a lot to me.”

Blaise just nodded, fake smile still pasted on his lips. Harry waited a moment, then asked. “So, did you want to come grab some food with me before I have to head out to the pitch?”

“No, thank you.” Blaise waved him off, struggling against his anger to keep his voice soft and sweet. “I have homework. You go on. Have fun.”

“Mmmm...okay.” Harry shrugged, then stood up and headed towards the door. He shot Blaise another apologetic look and added. “My class tonight runs until midnight, by the way, so…”

“I won’t wait up.” Blaise said, nodding in understanding. “Will you have time for me tomorrow?”

“Er…maybe?” Harry shrugged helplessly. “I think so. I’ll let you know, okay?”

He was out of the room before Blaise could do more than nod again. The second the door closed behind him, Blaise was cursing and scowling. Honestly, if it weren’t for the fact that people already assumed he and Epitome were fucking, he’d be ten times angrier. Well, that and the night before. Taking the edge off had _really_ helped him deal with Epi’s continued resistance to his charm.

Blaise considered his options for a few minutes, then grinned and headed out of the dorms. He had an owl to send…and an edge to take off.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Harry liked all of his training, but learning to fight – not duel; _fight_ – was his favorite. Especially since his birthday. Before that, Harry had found some of the movements – things like leg-sweeps, roundhouse kicks, and certain tumbles or rolls – exceptionally difficult. Severus said the Changeling Charm often resulted in a clumsy, graceless person because their body wasn’t the size and shape is was meant to be and it threw everything off. Without it in place, Harry found all of his movements were much smoother; much easier to execute. He no longer fell over mid-kick, either, which was nice.

Harry laughed as Ginny swept Ron’s feet out from under him; she grinned over at him from her crouching position, her weight still braced on her hands and the foot she’d pivoted on while her extended leg brought Ron to the ground. Hermione rolled her eyes at what she liked to call their _‘bloodthirsty senses of humor’_ and gestured for Neville to attempt to flip her over his arm again. She was trying to learn to break his hold and land on her feet mid-flip, but hadn’t quite mastered _when_ to kick out with her legs to break his hold so half the time she was landing on her ass instead. Harry thought Neville had the patience of a saint to keep trying with her, considering her temper when she failed at something, but at least she’d stopped accidentally kicking him in the head and shoulder at this point.

“Pay attention to _me,_ Epi.” Luna’s airy voice drew Harry’s attention back to his sparring partner and her impatient look. “Come on. I want to learn this.”

“Sorry, Luna.” Harry apologized, genuinely meaning it. He angled his body, bracing his weight on his front foot, and raised his hands to waist-height. Then he made a ‘come here’ gesture.

Luna’s weight went to her right foot, the left one raising even as she pivoted in place. Harry’s hands caught her foot and ankle, absorbing the impact by shifting his weight to his back foot. As her foot made contact with Harry’s hands, Luna pushed off from the ground with her other foot. She shifted her weight to her other foot, using the momentum from her initial spin- kick to carry her off the ground. Her body twisted in the air as her foot swung up; she pivoted on the foot Harry still held.

If properly executed, the move would allow Luna to kick Harry in the head before breaking the hold on her foot and landing on her feet. Harry, for his part, was expected to duck the headshot. He didn’t need to, though. Halfway through her pivot, Luna lost momentum. Her back slammed into the floor with a loud thud, her left foot and ankle wrenching out of Harry’s grip as a pained groan left her mouth. Remus was crossing the room immediately, wand drawn.

But Luna was on her feet before he could reach her, teeth gritted against the pain. “I’m fine.” She bit out after testing her weight on her left foot. “Let’s go again.”

“Luna, are you sure?” Remus still had his wand at the ready. “If you’re hurt, I can patch you up before you try again.”

“No one is going to be able to patch me up in the middle of a fight, Professor Lupin.” Luna’s airy voice was laced with pain, but her mouth was set with stubborn determination. “I have to be able to do this. Even if I’m in pain.”

Remus lowered his wand and stepped back, out of their sparring area. “If you’re certain.”

Luna nodded, narrowed her eyes, and said. “I _can_ do this. I _will_ do this.” She took a deep breath, then nodded to Harry.

“On three.” Harry told her, shifting back into position so they could go again. “One…two…three!”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Sunday morning was taken up by Severus, who insisted on healing the bruises and bumps Harry had gotten during training. Harry chose not to mention that _some_ of them had come from Blaise. He didn’t think his father would understand any better than Draco had. Harry wasn’t entirely sure he understood any of it himself. On Sunday afternoon, his collective friends from various Houses - including Slytherin - demanded his attention, and Harry laughingly let them drag him to the Room of Requirement for an inter-House hang out session. Harry tugged Blaise along with him, loving how charming and delightful Blaise was the entire time.

When they finally headed back to their dorm, it was Blaise who pleaded exhaustion when Harry offered to talk.

“I think we’ve cleared the air enough for now, don’t you?” Blaise asked, eyes pleading. “We can sort out the details later; when you’re ready. For now, let’s not spoil any more moments.”

Harry nodded, uncertain but wanting the fight to be firmly in the past. “Okay. If you’re sure we’re okay, then I guess we can wait to talk about it.”

“I’m sure we’re _perfect."_ Blaise assured him, pressing a tender kiss to Harry’s forehead. “Now, how about you change into pajamas and come join me in my bed?” Seeing the hesitation on Harry’s face, Blaise added. “Just to sleep. I like the feel of you in my arms.”

Feeling soft and warm inside, Harry agreed. And for that one moment, everything was perfect.

And then that moment ended.


	11. Chapter Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Geez. Okay...tags! This chapter is the cause of some new tags being added; READ THEM! They matter.
> 
> This chapter also contains graphic M/M sex. And not of the Harry/Draco variety! It's also not Harry/Blaise, so don't worry your pretty little heads about _that_ , my dears. It's Blaise...and another male character. I'd say who, but it's a surprise! The scene is actually really gorgeous and, unfortunately, NOT skip-able. Not even skim-able, really. There's a lot of plot happening during that scene, and it's crucial to the progression of the storyline. So. Bear with me, just for one scene, okay? I promise it's not that bad!
> 
> Also, this is the chapter you lot have been waiting for - the end of Harry and Blaise as a couple!!! YAY!!! So really, suffering through one non-Drarry smut scene should be worth it, just for that fact alone. (^_~) 
> 
> I hope you all like what I've done (and the game I created for this fic, which gets introduced in this chapter and will make a return at a later date). Remember that sometimes RL sucks for me, majorly (I just finally got out of a sling after a MONTH because I tore a muscle; fucking bullshit, let me tell you, and the injury made typing a no-go) so comments really help me get through my day. Actually, sometimes seeing a new comment is the brightest part of my day.
> 
> Also, if you're curious about what else I've been up to lately (and happen to be in the fandom), check out Chapter One of my very first SPN fic! It's a Destiel and Sabriel mix (Sabriel is my OTP, but Destiel is too adorably Canon to ignore) and it's a delight, I assure you! If you've seen up through the season 5 finale (and considering Season 10 premieres next month, if you're in the fandom, you best have seen at least that far!) then my fic will make sense and have no (real) spoilers. I know; splitting my time with other fandoms is brutally unfair of me, considering the epic wordiness of this particular fic, but...well..angel!porn and self-lubricating!angels and mpreg and wing!kink and....need I go on? SPN is a hard fandom to resist, from a porn perspective, lol.
> 
> Other than that, it's business as usual for me (hubby and me working out our marriage issues, a 5 year old son with autism, working overnight shifts 40 hours a week - though I'll be in manager training soon so we'll have to see how that affects my schedule - and such) so I repeat: comments are seriously the thing that gets me through my day when I'm having a particularly bad one. Remember that comments are love; I cherish them - and all of you - beyond words.
> 
> I hope you like this latest installment of 'The Hidden Prince' and cannot wait to see your reactions. Happy reading!
> 
> ~ LS

Two weeks sped by in a blur. Harry found himself swept away in the rush of energy that was a private boarding school for a normal teenage boy. Between classes (regular and extra), homework, friends, Quidditch practices, and time with his father, Harry barely had any time to _think_ , let alone spend with Blaise. Still, every night one of them crawled into the other’s bed and they would spend the night tangled around each other. Innocently, of course; still in pajamas and everything. But wrapped around each other regardless, and it made Harry feel strangely special to pass the night in someone’s arms.

 

His fourth Thursday at school, Harry discovered that he had no time between classes to do anything but dash to the next one. Then, as it was an alternating Thursday, Harry had to run from Care of Magical Creatures to the Quidditch pitch. He was still twenty minutes late, out of breath, and sweaty. He needed to shower off quick, and change, and then hopefully he wouldn’t pass out on his broom because he hadn’t eaten in _hours_. Hours and hours, in fact. He actually felt a little woozy.

 

His surprise upon entering the locker rooms to see Draco holding a tray with sandwiches and a pitcher of pumpkin juice was eclipsed only by his gratitude. Draco really was the best friend anyone could ask for, Harry decided as he inhaled the food and drink before rinsing the sweat from his skin and putting on his uniform. Draco had headed out to the field to direct practice after assuring Harry there was no need for him to rush; he was easily the best flyer on their team. Except, of course, for Draco himself. Still, he could afford to be late.

 

Yes, Draco Malfoy was a great friend to have.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Harry was meditating on Friday night, and doing a fairly good job of it, too. His concentration was shattered – along with everyone else’s – by a high, long screech. The sound came again, followed by Sirius and Remus cheering and applauding. Harry opened his eyes and gasped. Where Hermione had been sitting was a beautiful white and gold and brown barn owl. Her beautiful round face was pure white and so was her belly, while her head and back and wings were varying shades of gold and dark brown, with splashes of white. She was clearly a smaller breed of barn owl than Harry’s Anathema was, but she was completely gorgeous.

 

She was also preening, which made Harry smile. Trust Hermione to manage the change first. She hopped from foot to foot, still screeching, looking ridiculously pleased with herself for an owl.

 

After a few minutes of fawning, Sirius offered to change Hermione back. “As long as you don’t fight the change, it’s painless.”

 

There was a pause, then the air around the owl shimmered faintly. Seconds later, Hermione was beaming up at all of them. “No thanks.” She said, a bit unnecessarily. “I managed.”

 

Sirius laughed, deep and booming, then yanked Hermione into a hug. “You’ve got the spirit of a Marauder there, girl. Well done.”

 

Hermione blushed, but hugged him back. “Thank you, Sirius. You’re a good teacher.”

 

“Guess Dad will have to teach you how to fly as well.” Harry commented, making everyone laugh again and press closer to Hermione for more congratulations now that she was human again.

 

After another ten minutes of laughing and hugging and general celebration, Remus and Sirius exchanged talking glances. Then Remus sighed good-naturedly. “We’re all obviously very proud of Hermione, and this is very exciting. I think we can also agree that the odds of getting anything else productive done tonight are pretty slim. In light of that, you lot are dismissed.”

 

It took another twenty minutes for them to disperse – Ginny, Ron, Hermione, and Neville to Gryffindor Tower, while Luna headed for Ravenclaw and Harry made his way back to the dungeons. Glancing at his watch, Harry realized it was barely nine; he had two extra hours to do whatever he wanted. Speeding his steps, Harry wondered what his boyfriend was doing.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

When Harry entered the Slytherin Common Room, a strange tension filled the air. The room didn’t fall silent; almost no one missed so much as a beat in their conversations. But everyone present seemed to have a sudden vested interest in watching Harry’s progress towards his friends. Harry frowned at the false, too-bright smile on Pansy’s lips and the way Daphne was suddenly refusing to meet his eyes. ‘Ria was nowhere in sight, but then there weren’t a lot of students below Fifth Year around.

 

It was Draco’s reaction to his presence that was making Harry wary, though; more so than the curious, watchful alertness of the others in the room, or the avoidance of his other friends. Draco looked solemn and focused and…almost sympathetic, which didn’t make a lick of sense. A quick glance around showed that Blaise wasn’t in the room, leaving Harry wondering where he was. He debated about heading to the dorm – a quick look at the Marauders’ Map would reveal Blaise’s exact location – but he decided he’d ask the others first.

 

“Hey, guys.” Harry dropped down onto the black leather sofa beside Pansy, who made a small sound that was almost like distress, though Harry couldn’t imagine why. When he glanced over at her, concerned, her lips were still curved into a forced smile and her eyes wouldn’t stop moving and Harry started to get really worried. “Er…is everything…okay?”

 

“What? Yes! Of course it is.” Pansy’s voice was a little too loud; her laugh was a little too forced. Not to mention the way her eyes were darting around, looking at absolutely everything _except_ _him._ “Why wouldn’t everything be okay? Don’t be silly, Epi, really.”

 

“Riiight…” Harry looked at her askance, not believing her for a second but not wanting to push it, then he shook his head and turned to look at Draco.

 

Those grey eyes were narrowed and intense and speculative; that haughty, gorgeous face was serious; that full mouth was pressed into a thin, disapproving line. It was actually _more_ unnerving than Pansy’s behavior, but Harry refused to be daunted. “Do you know where Blaise is?”

 

“In the dorm room.” Draco answered, without a second of hesitation. There were sharp intakes of breath all around the room, – honestly, was _everyone_ eavesdropping, and if so, then _why_ – and Pansy and Daphne made soft sounds of protest as Draco continued. “You should go check on him.”

 

Harry frowned. ‘What do you mean, check on him?” Instantly concerned, Harry was halfway to standing in the blink of an eye. “What’s wrong?”

 

“Nothing!” Pansy was still too-loud, but shrill was added to the description at that point. Her fingers scrambled against Harry’s arm, nails biting into his skin as she pulled hard, desperately forcing him to sit back down. “He’s just fine, Epi. Why don’t you spend some time with us? We don’t see nearly enough of you, what with all of your lessons and Quidditch and such.”

 

Daphne was nodding frantically from beside Pansy, worry shining in her blue eyes, making Harry even warier. “That’s right. We miss you, Epi. Spend some time with us.”

 

What in the hell was going on? Harry looked around at his friends, then took in the avid way the rest of the Common Room was watching them, and felt dread settle – ice-cold and heavy – in the pit of his stomach. “What aren’t you telling me?”

 

“Go see for yourself.” Draco said coldly, though there was still that soft sympathy in his eyes that made Harry feel sick to his stomach even though he didn’t understand what it was about. “Like I said, Blaise is in the dorm. I’m sure he can explain it to you.”

 

“ _Draco…”_ Pansy sounded like she was going to cry; her voice was miserable and soft and pleading. It was enough to make Harry shoot her another concerned glance, though she avoided his eyes, staring intently at Draco instead. “Please, don’t…it’s not how he should find out!”

 

“Then tell him, if you’re so eager for him to learn another way.” Draco snapped; his tone was vicious and biting and cruel. “You lot forbid me from doing so, with all your nonsense about tact and delicacy, so tell him yourself or let him go and see. Because it’s gone on long enough, I should think. More than, if you want my opinion, though apparently no one does.”

 

Harry swallowed hard, the ball of icy lead in his stomach growing; a metallic taste crept up his tongue from the back, staining his teeth and tongue with the biting flavor. “Tell me what? What do I need to know and why isn’t anyone telling me?” He flicked his eyes to the girls, but they both looked away, flushed and miserable and just a little bit guilty.

 

He looked back at Draco and was met with a strange blend of defiance and pity; it only made him feel worse, because he couldn’t think of anything that would make Draco pity him but it had to be something horrible. “What’s going on?”

 

“Just go and see Blaise.” Draco said after a moment, voice soft but firm, and laced with defeat as though he hated that he was saying what he was but didn’t have a choice in the matter. “No one is going to tell you, so you might as well.”

 

Uncertain, but unable to deny his curiosity, Harry rose and headed for the dorm. He half-expected the girls to try to call him back – to try to keep him there – but no one did. Everyone just watched him go, the prickling stares making Harry’s hair stand on end. Whatever he was about to find…Harry knew it wasn’t going to be good.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

The heavy wooden door unlatched without a sound as Harry turned the knob. He could feel the tingle of magic around the doorway, and the faint buzz against his ears that betrayed the presence of a silencing charm. Swallowing hard, Harry nudged the door a little, shifting forward to look through the small gap, curious and terrified at the same time though he wasn’t sure why. He was just far enough forward to pass the barrier of the charm; to have sound press in on him, heavy and damning. The sight in front of him would have been horrid enough _without_ sound; with it, it was sheer agony. His hand clenched tight around the doorframe; Harry felt like someone had plunged a knife straight into his heart. He wondered weakly why blood wasn’t spilling from his lips, because surely nothing could hurt like this without killing him.

 

Caramel skin glistened in the torchlight, sheened with sweat. Pale skin – marred by bruises and teeth marks and vivid red scratches that could only have come from nails raked across it – glowed, just as sweat-slicked and shiny. The contrast where he pressed tight together with the darker teen was stark and startlingly beautiful. Pale, trembling thighs spread wide – all of his weight braced on his knees – leaving nothing to the imagination, cock hard and flushed and leaking against a white, quivering belly. Darker thighs – nestled between those creamy white ones – were spread as well, keeping the younger boy wide open; leaving him vulnerable to each hard upward thrust the older teen made into his pliant body.

 

Small, pale hands clasped tightly behind Blaise’s neck as that slender white body rose and fell, thighs straining as he lifted himself up and lowered himself back down, his back pressed to Blaise’s chest and belly. The younger boy’s lithe, narrow chest heaved as he sucked in desperate lungfuls of air, grinding his ass back into Blaise’s groin on each downward plunge of his body. That golden-blonde head flung back against Blaise’s shoulder as the Slytherin gave a particularly vicious thrust, brown eyes squeezing shut as a loud cry spilled from slick, kiss-swollen lips. Blaise laughed, low and throaty and seductive, in the other boy’s ear and thrust again, hands gripping those pale, slender hips tightly; forcing the smaller boy to keep up with his punishing pace. It was easy to see which of them was in control; easy to see that the smaller boy was coming undone in Blaise’s arms; easier still to see that Blaise was enjoying taking the other teen apart, one shattered piece at a time.

 

“Please…” The desperation in that single word, followed by a needy mewl of pleasure, made Blaise laugh again; this time there was an edge of cruelty to it. The boy begged again. “ _Please,_ Blaise…”

 

Another cruel laugh, then Blaise nipped the boy’s ear. Blaise slid one hand forward, fingers just barely brushing the smaller teen’s cock as it bounced against his belly with each thrust. “Told you I’d have you begging in no time…” He purred, still teasing with light brushes of fingertips; barely-there touches that offered absolutely no relief. “Say you’re sorry, pet.”

 

“S-sorry…” The boy gasped, almost sobbing now as desire so strong it was almost pain washed over him in waves. “Please, I’m _so sorry_ …I won’t…won’t question you again…I swear, _please…_ ”

 

Blaise made a soft, pleased sound, then nuzzled the boy’s neck. “Now that wasn’t so hard, was it, Zach? I wasn’t asking for much, after all. Just some trust.”

 

Harry squeezed his eyes shut, but not before the image of Blaise’s long, slender fingers curling around Zacharias’ Smith’s erection burned itself into his brain. The sound Zach made, keening and full of need, made Harry’s head throb just behind his temples. Zach’s next words only made the pounding worse, and Harry felt bile coating his throat.

 

“He…he’s just so _pretty…_ ” Zach whined, sounding miserable and sad under the pleasure-drenched slur to his words. “And you…you _dote_ on him…and…I…”

 

“Shhh…” Blaise crooned and Harry couldn’t resist opening his eyes at the soft, soothing tone of voice though he hated himself for it.

 

Blaise had wound one arm around Zach’s waist, and his thrusts were gentle now; slow and steady and deep as they rocked Zach’s slender form, painting ecstasy across that normally-sneering face. The way Blaise was holding him, the way he was moving, the way Zach was reacting…this wasn’t roughness and need and desperation; not anymore. This was the sort of slow, pleasure-soaked sex that came only when you _knew_ your partner; when you knew what they liked, and how they liked it, and could keep the both of you poised on the edge for _hours_ if you wanted to. This was painful to watch, in an entirely different way, because this was far more like love than anything Harry had seen from Blaise before.

 

That soft, soothing purr continued and each word felt like Blaise was twisting the knife in his heart just a little bit more. “Hush, pet. Who do I always come back to?”

 

“Me…” Zach breathed, turning his head and catching Blaise’s lips in a deep, drugging kiss. When they separated for air, he said brokenly. “But…Snape is…”

 

“Nothing.” Blaise reassured, still moving inside Zach in a way that wrung the most delicious little gasps and moans from the younger boy. “He is _nothing_. A pretty face, but there’s always another one of those, pet, remember?”

 

Zach whimpered, nodding, and Blaise continued softly while the hand stroking Zach’s cock sped up, just a little. “You know me, pet. You had to know when you saw him that I’d try. How could I not? Epitome is delightfully fuckable, if stubbornly prudish.” A laugh, soft and mocking, then Blaise licked Zach’s neck and added. “He could _never_ compare to you, pet. No one could. No one can take it the way you can; so soft and sweet and willing to beg…such a _good_ _boy…”_

 

Zach keened as Blaise tightened his grip, almost to the point of pain, and drove into him hard. With his back arching as much as it could while Blaise’s arm was still around his waist holding them pressed tightly together, back to chest, Zach came in hot, wet spurts over Blaise’s fist and his own belly. Moments later, Blaise’s face contorted with pleasure. He slammed in twice more, quick and hard, before shuddering and filling Zach with a low, rumbling growl. For several long moments, the two teens shuddered, Blaise capturing Zach’s lips again in another deep kiss, and Harry felt like throwing up; like the worst sort of voyeur.

 

“I love you…” Zach breathed, turning his head again to nuzzle into Blaise’s neck, body now limp and boneless against his lover.

 

Blaise hummed quietly, pressing a soft kiss to tousled blonde hair, and murmured. “If I’ve ever loved anyone, you know it’s you.” Blaise said it softly; the closest to a tender confession he’d ever come.

 

Harry’s whole world tilted sickeningly at that and he reached out to catch himself against the door. He misjudged, his hand bumping the door instead of clutching at it, and it went swinging open, silent but obvious. Zach stiffened, head whipping around at the sudden movement, brown eyes wide for a single instant. They met vibrant green and Harry sucked in a stunned breath when they went from surprised to defiantly pleased in a blink; Zach was _glad_ they’d been caught. Not that Harry could really blame him; he couldn’t imagine how Zach must have felt these past few weeks, watching him with Blaise. Harry suddenly remembered Zach’s face on the train – hurt and betrayed and devastated – and the strange pleasure and satisfaction Blaise had seemed to get from seeing it. It made him feel a strange, unexpected, and wholly unwelcome surge of pity for Zach.

 

Blaise, for his part, was watching Harry in silence.

 

His head was tipped just a little to the side and his golden-green eyes were curious, but not the least bit worried or defensive. He was just…waiting. He made no move to shove Zach away from him; to cover them up; to pretend or plead or apologize. That was surprising. In fact, Harry could tell from the faint rocking motions of Blaise and Zach that – orgasm or not – Blaise still had his cock nestled inside of Zacharias’ body; was still _fucking_ him. That was more surprising, and a little bit sickening as well. As Harry watched, Zach’s eyes closed and he let out a small, breathless sound of pleasure, his spent cock twitching in renewed interest.

 

“Going to stand there and watch all night, Snape?” Zach asked. Blaise moved again and Zach let out a breathless little gasp before he forced his eyes open again, a smirk curving his lips as he added. “Not that it bothers either of us, mind you…I’m just curious.”

 

“You lying, cheating _bastard.”_ Harry hissed at Blaise, finding his voice at long last, hands clenching in fists at his sides as his eyes narrowed. No longer frozen in shocked betrayal, Harry’s magic crackled into life around him.

 

Blaise blinked slowly, stilling his motions at last; wariness crept into his eyes as he seemed to recall the painful heat and shock of his boyfriend’s magic from their fight weeks ago. “Now, Epi…” He chided softly, looking reproachful. “If anyone’s got the right to call me a cheater, it’s Zach here. And you don’t hear him spouting off in maidenly outrage now do you? Let’s keep this civil.”

 

“Civil? _Civil?”_ Harry’s whole body was trembling with rage now, unable to believe Blaise’s audacity; that he would have the _temerity_ to tell Harry to be _civil_ when he was _fucking. Someone. Else_.

 

It wasn’t even that Harry was _hurt_ because, strangely enough, he _wasn’t_. Oh he had been at first, because how could he _not_ be? And he was still chafing over having been fooled, obviously. And it _did_ hurt – just a bit – to be called a pretty face and nothing more; to know that Blaise had had no _real_ feelings for him. Not even the littlest hint of fondness, or caring. It also stung his pride to know that while he was training so he could save the world – whether Blaise knew it or not – his faithless _‘boyfriend’_ was fucking some mewling Hufflepuff prat. But he wasn’t _heartbroken._

 

No, Harry was _pissed off._ Royally.

 

He felt his magic lashing out, whipping papers off of desks and sending various little items flying off of nightstands and trunks. The flames on the torches leapt and danced, flickering madly in the chaotic wake of Harry’s magic. Zach tensed, pressing back into Blaise as his eyes widened in fear. The raw power filling the room was a tangible thing and it was clearly dangerous; deadly. There was a cracking sound – loud and ominous in the stillness of the room – though Harry ignored it.

 

Harry was panting loudly, struggling not to just let his power go; not to just let it punish the teens in front of him for making him look like a fool. Because _now_ Harry understood the way he’d been watched in the Common Room, and the stares, and the tension. He understood his friends’ evasiveness – and oh, were they going to hear it from him – and Draco’s determination to make him come up; to make him _see_ what was happening right under his nose _._ Because Draco had tried to warn him about this, hadn’t he? Back during the summer. But Harry had been too stubborn – too _stupid,_ really – to listen. And now everyone knew what an idiot he was.

 

And Merlin, it was hard to hold back the rage, but Harry knew he had to try. There was another cracking sound, then another, and Harry wondered absently what it was. Glass? It sounded vaguely like glass…a mirror, perhaps? Or maybe a window.

 

Deciding it didn’t matter, and that he needed to leave before he hurt someone, Harry turned and fled the room. The door slammed behind him without a touch, locking in case Blaise got the stupid urge to follow him, though Harry didn’t think he would.

 

Harry tore through the Common Room, ignoring his friends as they called out to him; ignoring Draco shouting his name. He just wanted to be alone.

 

Had Harry been calmer, it might have occurred to him that the sound of cracking glass _had_ been the dorm’s windows. Windows that looked _into_ the lake. And cracking glass underwater usually lead to leaks, and destabilization, and pressure build up, and breaking glass, and _flooding._ And then, it might have occurred to him that the odds of a student being able to open a door locked by Harry Potter’s raw magic were pretty damned slim. And maybe, _maybe,_ he would have been a little bit concerned for Blaise and Zach, trapped in a room with breaking windows and water.

 

Then again, maybe not.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

By the time Draco managed to track down Harry – with the help of a ghost he didn’t know the name of and a handful of portraits – guilt was getting the better of him. Maybe letting him _see_ what Blaise had been up to had been…unnecessarily cruel. He just hadn’t been able to take seeing Harry moon over the other teen anymore. Not knowing the truth; not knowing Blaise as he did. Not when he wanted his godfather’s son for himself.

 

Draco sighed as he pushed open the door to the Intrinsic Magic classroom; why Harry had chosen this room he didn’t know, but that was where the portrait had pointed. “Epi?” He asked softly as he stepped inside, cautious and uncertain. “I just…wanted to apologize.”

 

“For what?” Harry’s voice lashed out, quick and cutting like a whip, from the dark. “Did you fuck my boyfriend as well?”

 

Draco made a choked sound, but admitted softly. “Once, but that was long before he was dating you so I don’t think it matters much.”

 

There was a pause, then Draco flicked his wand and murmured a spell, lighting the torches on the walls and filling the room with flickering shadows and flame. Harry was staring at a blank expanse of wall, tense and brooding. Draco could _feel_ his magic. It was radiating off of him in heated waves. Draco swallowed hard at the long, liquid pull low in his belly; he couldn’t help his instinctive reaction to that sort of power, after all. He had already found Harry attractive, of course, but this new knowledge – this undeniable proof of Harry’s power – was…intoxicating.

 

Harry threw up his right hand and the wall in front of him was suddenly white. Draco’s eyes widened in surprise, then his breath released on a trembling moan as Harry brought up his other hand and splashed color – deep, angry red – across the white in violent slashes. His right hand made an abrupt, sideways motion and deep, dark green, the color of the Killing Curse, splattered over the white and red. Harry was panting, his magic snapping and snarling against his strained control, demanding an outlet.

 

Harry closed his eyes and threw both hands up, color blossoming and bursting across the wall in vivid, stunning splashes. Blue, brown, black, silvery-white, soft yellow…they crossed, and bled into each other, and dripped down the wall like wet paint. Draco sank slowly to the ground, his knees weak and his legs unable to support him, and _watched._

 

He had never seen such a powerful display of magic. It was clear to him that Harry was just…venting. He was just blowing off steam. There was no control; no purpose; no intent. There was simply raw emotion, and wild magic, and what the two could create together. Harry was just burning energy; wearing himself down so he wouldn’t hurt anyone. Somehow, the lack of control just made it that much hotter.

 

Finally, Harry lowered his shaking arms and sank to his knees. His head was bowed, hair falling forward to shield his face, shoulders slumped and weary. Tentatively, Draco got to his feet and crossed the room, joining his friend. He hovered there beside him, wanting to reach out and soothe but not entirely sure how to go about it. Finally he turned his eyes on the wall and sucked in a sharp, stunned breath. He had only been looking at it in portions before; now, he could see the whole picture. It was one that left him feeling confused and scared.

 

“Epi?” He asked weakly, voice trembling, eyes locked on the painting. “W-why would you paint something like this?”

 

Harry blinked, then raised his head to look at what he’d done. The scene was beautiful, in a horrifying sort of way. It was a clearing in a forest – the Black Forest, perhaps? Harry wasn’t sure – and in the center of it was a unicorn. The beast, silver hair gleaming in the light of a full moon that hung above the trees, was lying on its side. Its pure white hide was shredded, dripping silvered-blood from vicious gashes; the blood pooled around it, staining leaves and grass like spilled moonlight, while splashes of crimson blood stained the same ground a violent red. Slinking off into the trees, claws stained silver and dripping red from a wound on its side, was a shadowy beast Harry had no name for.

 

But the most disturbing part of the picture was what encircled the unicorn from the tree-line. Thestrals, at least half a dozen, watching with blank white eyes. And there, rising up from within the unicorn’s fallen body, another thestral – shadowy, black, wings spread, eyes white but not blind, skeletal and otherworldly, but still beautiful. Harry stared up at the image in silent incomprehension for long moments, then he shrugged helplessly.

 

“I don’t know.” He admitted, eyes moving over the image. It lacked fine detail, he noted, in an almost absent manner; the longer he stared at it, the fuzzier the image became. It was the sort of painting you looked at from across a room, not up close. “I wasn’t actually planning this, you know. I was just trying to get rid of some of the excess energy. It’s hard for me to control when it’s like that.”

 

“I guess.” Draco said, voice small and still a little scared, but he reached out and brushed his fingers lightly over Harry’s arm. “It’s beautiful, you know. In a way. It’s a bit like…like lost innocence.”

 

Harry swallowed and nodded but didn’t pull away, so Draco grabbed his hand and tangled their fingers together. “I really am sorry, you know.” He gave Harry’s hand a little squeeze, whispering. “I wanted to tell you, but the girls didn’t want you to be more hurt than necessary and insisted on waiting for the right time, whatever in the hell that means.”

 

Harry nodded, dropping his eyes from the painting. He took a slow, deep breath then said. “I’m not mad at you for sending me up there. It’s hardly your fault. I could have happily done without the visual of my boyfriend’s cock buried inside some Hufflepuff’s arse, but again, not your fault.”

 

“They were _still_ fucking when you got up there?” Draco asked, incredulously. “I thought you’d find them…you know, naked and post-coital. Not…mid-shag.” Biting his lip, Draco offered another faint apology. “Sorry.”

 

“Still not your fault.” Harry pointed out, rolling his eyes. He squeezed Draco’s hand, then released it and shifted into a more comfortable position on the floor. “So…how long?”

 

Draco didn’t bother pretending not to know what Harry meant, which Harry appreciated; he just settled more comfortably beside Harry and answered. “He and Zach got together last year, around Christmas time I guess. Zach’s not a bad sort, for a Puff; he’s loads slyer than you’d expect. Actually thought the two of them would make a real go of it for a bit there, but Blaise is who he is, and Zach doesn’t seem to mind overly much. Or rather, he’s too in love with Blaise to risk losing him by making an issue over it.

 

“I wasn’t too surprised to see Zach slip into the Common Room after you went to your lesson on our first Friday back at school.” Draco admitted, eyes darting away from Harry’s intense gaze. “The girls were, for what it’s worth. I think they really thought Blaise cared about you. When he came back on Saturday, I just…well, I wanted to tell you, but Pan and Daphne insisted we had to _‘do it right’_ or some such nonsense like that. As if there’s a right way to say you’re dating an utter prat.”

 

Harry’s mouth twitched up a little at that, though it fell again quickly. “So right from the start of us getting here, then. Great.” Harry puffed up his cheeks and crossed his eyes for a moment, holding his breath and counting to fifteen before relaxing his face and letting the air out. “Okay, so how big of an idiot does everyone think I am?”

 

Draco snorted. “Oh, let’s not go there, Epi. No point in rubbing salt in the wound, right?” He shook his head and added. “For what it’s worth, _I_ don’t think you’re an idiot. Or not much of one, anyway.”

 

Harry nodded, eyes flicking briefly back to the painting on the wall. He shifted his gaze back to Draco, and his voice was soft when he spoke again. “Can I ask you something? Something personal?”

 

“I…suppose so.” Draco agreed, albeit hesitantly. “But I reserve the right to refuse to answer, depending on what it is.”

 

Harry nodded. “Fair enough.” He said, eyes flicking between the painting and Draco for several moments before he finally asked the question he’d been wondering about for nearly two months. “What happened between you and Blaise?”

 

“You would ask that, wouldn’t you?” Draco sighed, though he sounded more weary than anything else so Harry didn’t think he minded too much. “He just…screwed me over in The Game, that’s all.”

 

Harry looked at Draco like he’d sprouted an extra appendage. “I’m sorry, but was that supposed to explain anything at all? Because it didn’t.”

 

Draco looked at Harry like he was a bit slow. “You know… _The Game.”_ When Harry just kept staring, Draco cursed softly under his breath. “That fucking tosser didn’t even explain it to you! Well, at least he can’t claim points now.”

 

“Points for what?” Harry asked, exasperated.

 

“For taking your virginity.” Draco said, almost absently, looking pensive. “He’ll try, of course, but if you didn’t know about The Game then he can’t.”

 

There was a pause while Harry tried to find his voice, then he sputtered in an outrage. “He can’t get _anything_ for taking my virginity because I’m still a virgin!”

 

Draco blinked, then asked. “Really? Because we all saw the two of you slipping in and out of each other’s beds every night, and it’s not really like you’d need to be ashamed or whatever since you didn’t _know_ what an arsekettle Blaise was. No one would blame you for letting him fuck you.”

 

“Well, I didn’t!” Harry snapped, glaring. “And I can’t believe everyone thinks we did, just because we were sleeping in the same bed. I’ve got self-control, you know.”

 

“You can’t blame people for thinking it, considering Blaise told anyone who’d listen that the two of you were going at it like bunnies.” Draco said pointedly. When Harry’s mouth fell open in shock, Draco shrugged and said. “I told you, he wanted to claim your points.”

 

“What points?” Harry demanded, almost desperately. “What _game?_ You haven’t explained _anything,_ you know.”

 

Draco sighed, then shrugged uncomfortably. “Well, it’s a House-thing. A Slytherin House thing, I mean. I don’t know how long it’s been going on, but at least a hundred years. Probably longer. You have to be a Fourth Year to play, and you have to be a Slytherin, so you can’t get points for anyone younger than that or for anyone in another House. It’s not considered fair if they’re too young to understand, or if they’re unaware of The Game.”

 

Harry nodded to show he was following so far and Draco continued. “So the Seventh Years are the ones who assign point-values.”

 

“For people’s virginities.” Harry clarified, wanting to make sure he understood what Draco was saying to him. “They give point-values to _people’s innocence.”_

 

“Their physical innocence, yes.” Draco agreed, knowing how it must sound to an outsider. “Anyway, the point-value changes all the time, based on different things. How many people you’ve dated, how long you hold out against the person who takes it, your social status, your looks, your wealth, your magical strength, your grades, your age…all sorts of things. I was pegged as a high-scorer from the start, with my point-value at the start of Fourth Year a startling three hundred points.”

 

“I’m guessing that’s a lot?” Harry asked, uncertain since he had nothing to compare to.

 

Draco laughed. “Yes, it is. For instance, for having held onto her virginity for so long, combined with looks, wealth, family connections, and Prefect status, Pansy is currently boasting a point-value of four hundred and fifty. She started Fourth Year at one hundred.” His lips twitched up and he added. “Of course, if she sleeps with Longbottom no one is getting those points. When Daphne lost hers last year, she gave the Slytherin boy three hundred points.”

 

Harry nodded again, shifting a little uncomfortably at the idea of placing point-values on people, in any way.

 

Draco continued. “The person with the most earned-points at the end of the year wins a gift certificate to Honeydukes; fifty galleons. It’s funded by Slytherin alumni. Anyway, if someone doesn’t want to play, they typically just sleep with someone from another House the first time; problem solved. Alternately, they can sleep with someone else who’s a virgin and neither of you can claim the other’s points.” Draco’s voice turned bitter. “I wanted to do that, you see; I had no interest in playing. And I damned sure didn’t want someone claiming points for me.

 

“By Halloween of last year, my point-value had gone up. More than doubled, in fact. I had dated, but never gone far enough to make my points claimable. I was a Prefect.” Draco huffed out a bitter laugh, looking cross. “Six hundred and fifty points. Most people couldn’t earn that many if they debauched four virgins, and there was just me…worth all of that. I thought, well, I’ll just make sure no one’s claiming _anything_ from me, won’t I?”

 

Harry’s breath hitched in his chest as he realized what must have happened. “You slept with Blaise…”

 

“He was supposedly a virgin as well.” Draco bit out from behind clenched teeth, his cheeks flushing with anger as his grey eyes narrowed dangerously. “Imagine my surprise when Blaise not only claimed my points, but _won_ because of them. The bastard hadn’t been a virgin for _months_ when he slept with me; when he lied to my face about it to claim my points.”

 

“That’s horrible.” Harry said, reaching out and placing his hand on top of Draco’s. “Merlin, that’s seriously horrible. Point-claiming...when is that done?”

 

“Oh, well, he’s technically already claimed yours. You can contest that claim any time, of course. They tally them at the end of the year.” Draco’s eyes lit up. “Oh, I can’t _wait_ to see his face when he finds out you know about The Game and you tell everyone he can’t have your points. Will you do it tonight?”

 

Harry opened his mouth to say sure, why not...then he stopped. An evil-looking smile curved his lips and Draco blinked in stunned surprise, wondering what could have caused the look. He got his answer a few moments later when Harry spoke.

 

“I think I’ll wait.” Harry said, eyes dancing with wicked amusement. “Who knows; maybe someone else will be able to claim those points before the year is over. And if not, I can always state my virginity when they tally the points.”

 

Draco snickered. “Oh, that would be hilarious.” Laughter made Draco’s silver eyes sparkle. “You should definitely wait, and announce it after they declare him winner.”

 

Harry blinked, then frowned. “It’s three weeks into school, Draco. What in the world makes you so sure he’s going to win?”

 

Draco blinked, then laughed. “Oh, Epi…you’re so naïve. Blaise claimed six hundred points for you.” He shook his head, still chuckling, and added. “Honestly, the only other student worth near that much right now is Pansy, and it’s like I said. If she shags Longbottom, her points aren’t claimable. So there’s not much chance of someone out-scoring him.”

 

He tipped his head, looking at Harry with interest, and added. “Unless of course someone else _does_ claim your points before the year ends. You would’ve been worth more, you know, except you supposedly gave in to Blaise so quickly. So if you’re actually claimed at some point, after having resisted Blaise, you’ll be worth even more.”

 

Harry wrinkled his nose up and said dryly. “All the more reason not to tell anyone Blaise hasn’t claimed those points. I’d have people trying to get into my pants just for that.”

 

“Oh, I doubt that.” Draco murmured, dropping his eyes as a small smile tugged at his lips. “As gorgeous as you are, Epi, I’m sure desire would far outweigh point-value in your case.”

 

Harry flushed, but smiled a little in return. “Thanks, I guess. I just…wouldn’t want to be worry about it, you know? I wouldn’t want to be with someone unless I knew they really cared about _me.”_

 

Draco just nodded, his eyes flitting back to the painting for a moment. “You’re a complicated person, Epitome Snape.” He drawled softly, head tipped a little to one side. “I don’t know yet if I like that about you or not.”

 

“Let me know when you figure it out.” Harry told him, yawning widely as his eyes tried to shut. “Merlin, I’m tired. But I _really_ don’t want to go back to our dorm just now.”

 

Draco tipped his head a little further, then pulled out his wand. He flicked it and cast a summoning charm, bringing his and Harry’s class cushions zipping across the room. Another quick spell and a little swish, and the cushions were three times their normal size. Harry laughed, but kicked off his shoes and curled himself up on his cushion with a happy little sound, watching tiredly as Draco pushed his cushion right up against Harry’s and settled in as well, his boots on the floor near Harry’s. The blonde murmured another spell and Harry blinked in sleepy surprise when his shirt peeled itself off of him and turned into a blanket. Draco’s lips twitched up into a smile before he cast the same spell on his own shirt and snuggled in, looking content but wide-awake.

 

Eyes heavy, Harry mumbled thickly. “You’re not sleepy, are you?”

 

“No, I’m not.” Draco admitted, reaching out and brushing his fingers over Harry’s hair, a strange look on his face. “But I don’t mind lying here until I am. Now shhh; sleep.”

 

Draco murmured a spell to extinguish the torches and the room fell dark. Harry yawned again, wondering what he’d done to deserve someone like Draco Malfoy in his life. He really was quite lucky. Harry shifted a little closer to where he could feel Draco’s warmth radiating out towards him, then let sleep pull him under.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Saturday morning was interesting. Harry woke up to find Draco had wiggled off of his own makeshift bed, and onto Harry’s. The blonde was snuggled into his side, head on Harry’s shoulder, warm and pliant and drooling just a little. Harry couldn’t help smiling, one hand stroking lightly up and down Draco’s spine while the other curled loosely around Draco’s waist. Draco murmured softly in his sleep, nestling even closer. One of Draco’s legs was thrown across Harry’s thighs and as he shifted in his sleep it moved higher, making Harry blush and squirm a little.

 

Draco whimpered, the hand resting in the center of Harry’s chest creeping up to clutch at Harry’s other shoulder, pulling himself closer. His mouth, full lips parted and damp, pressed against the base of Harry’s throat. Harry bit back a groan as Draco shifted in his sleep again, pressing himself – and his apparent early-morning erection – against Harry’s hip. Another shift, a soft sigh, a slight rocking of Draco’s hips, and then the blonde went suddenly rigid against him.

 

Swallowing, because his mouth felt dry-as-dust, Harry made an attempt at lightness, though he knew his voice sounded a bit too husky for it to really be believable. “Finally awake?”

 

“Ah…yes.” Draco managed, still tense against his side. He seemed to be barely breathing. “I, ah…I didn’t mean to…that is, I’m sorry…for…”

 

“Shut up, Draco.” Harry said, making a sound halfway between a groan and a laugh. “We’re sixteen year old boys. We wake up hard. No need to make a huge production out of it.”

 

There was a pause, then Draco snorted and laughed, sitting up. He was still pink-faced and a bit embarrassed, but he was also amused. “Yes, well, when you put it like that…” He snorted again, shaking his head. “Well, come on then. Might as well go get some breakfast and reassure the rest of the House that we’re alive and well.”

 

“Mmmm…I guess.” Harry yawned and stretched, so focused on the pleasurable sensation of waking up stiff, sleeping muscles that he didn’t notice the way Draco watched him.

 

A few minutes later Draco had undone the spells on their cushions and shirts, and both boys were dressed again. Draco sent their cushions zipping back to their storage spots, and Harry faced the wall with his wand raised. Just as he opened his mouth – intending to cast a quick, but powerful, Scourgify to scrub the paint from the stone – Draco’s hand closed around his wrist.

 

“Er, Draco?” Harry blinked, confused. “Something wrong?”

 

Draco shrugged, eyes on the painting. Finally, he released Harry’s wrist and shook his head. “No, nothing’s wrong. Come on; let’s go.”

 

Harry frowned, but didn’t push the issue. Seconds later the artwork was gone and Harry followed Draco out of the classroom, heading towards the Great Hall.

 

The second they stepped inside, Severus rose from the Head Table and headed towards them. Draco and Harry exchanged wide-eyed looks, then simply waited for the Potions Master to reach them. Severus didn’t hesitate; he pulled Harry into his arms, right in front of everyone.

 

“You could have killed them, you daft boy!” Severus admonished in a growl, still hugging Harry tightly to him. “What were you _thinking?”_

 

As Severus released Harry, he and Draco exchanged baffled looks. “Er, Dad…” Harry blinked confusion up at his father. “What are you talking about? Who could I have killed?”

 

Severus frowned, then said simple. “Zabini and Smith. Not that anyone blames you, of course.” Severus turned angry eyes on Draco and added. “You and I will be having a talk later, Draco, about _informing my son of important things._ Are we clear?”

 

Draco flushed and lowered his eyes, mumbling. “Yes, sir.”

 

Harry, however, was stuck on the _‘could have killed them’_ part of what had been said. “Whoa, wait a second. How could I have killed them? A little magical whirlwind is _hardly_ the worst that’s ever happened when my magic was out of control, and it certainly wasn’t going to hurt anyone!” Harry blushed and added sheepishly. “I did sort of trash the dorm with it, but not _on purpose._ I left as soon as I realized my magic was completely out of hand.”

 

“You don’t know.” Severus’ velvety voice was low and stunned; his dark eyes were wide. “For Salazar’s sake, Epitome, you flooded the dorm with the two of them _locked in._ It took _Albus_ to break that damned locking charm, and then it took Filius _two hours_ to repair the damage and make the dorm safe for students again.”

 

Draco sucked in a stunned breath, then he whipped around to gape at Harry. “How in the name of anything did you manage to flood our dorm?”

 

Harry bit his lip, cheeks burning, and shrugged helplessly. “I, er…I think I broke the windows? I mean, I heard glass cracking before I left, but I didn’t really give it much thought. I completely forgot the windows are underwater.”

 

There was a pause, then Draco grabbed Harry’s face in both hands and pressed a loud kiss to his lips before cackling delightedly. “Oh, Epi…” He grinned at Harry as the brunette went stock-still in surprise, his voice fond. “If that’s not justice, well, I don’t know what is. Great job.”

 

“Do not encourage him to lose control of his magic, Draco.” Severus’ voice was cold and sharp; it cracked through the air, dangerous and angry. “Epitome, Albus has decided to let this incident go, in light of the circumstances leading up to it, but you _must_ retain control of your power. It is far too strong to have it rampaging about, wreaking havoc every time you get a bit emotional. Is that clear?”

 

Harry dropped his eyes, his delight at Draco’s amused reaction to his temper-tantrum fading in the face of his father’s disapproval. “Yes, sir.” He managed in a whisper, refusing to blink for fear of letting loose the tears stinging the backs of his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

 

Severus sighed, then used two fingers to tip Harry’s chin up, forcing his son to meet his eyes. In a stern voice, he said. “As your professor and Head of House, I am severely disappointed in your loss of control, and do not condone such actions in the slightest.”

 

Harry nodded meekly, teeth sinking into his full lower lip as his breath hitched uncomfortably in his chest. Severus’ face softened and his lips twitched up at the corners before he admitted quietly. “As your father, however…I must say, well done.”

 

Draco stifled laughter beside them as Harry blushed and ducked his head again, trying to hide his pleased grin. Severus wasn’t angry with him; not really. He just wanted Harry to be more careful in the future, and retain control over his magic. Harry could live with that.

 

“You two are incorrigible.” Severus muttered, rolling his eyes. He ran a hand through Harry’s hair, patted Draco on the shoulder, then nodded towards Slytherin’s table. “Go on, then, Epi. Miss Parkinson and both Misses Greengrass were quite concerned for you. Draco…my office, after Quidditch practice.”

 

Draco swallowed hard, but nodded. Harry bit his lip again, this time to hide a smile, and followed the blonde to their friends at the table.

 

Pansy was immediately apologizing, tears welling in her eyes. “We’re _so sorry._ Merlin, Epi, we should have told you, Draco was right, and it was horrible of us to lie for him, but we didn’t know _how_ and we didn’t want to hurt you, and _please_ don’t hate us, because we’re sorry, we really are, I swear, and…”

 

“Hush.” Harry chided softly, giving her a small smile. “It’s over and done with. I appreciate the apology, but as long as there’s no repeat performance, it’s forgiven.”

 

Harry had planned to berate the girls, reminding them that lying to him wasn’t the best way to keep him as a friend, but in the face of three crying girls – because Daphne and Astoria were all crying as well, and weren’t the three of them just enough to melt anyone’s resolve – he found he couldn’t. Astoria sniffled and hugged him tightly, sobbing out her own stream of apologies, while Daphne chewed on her lip and looked mournfully at him with wet blue eyes. Harry sighed and patted Astoria’s back soothingly, giving Daphne and Pansy a reassuring smile.

 

“Blaise is an idiot.”

 

Harry, Draco, and the girls all turned in stunned silence to face Theodore Nott, who had spoken with quiet conviction from the other side of Pansy, across the table from Astoria. “Er, excuse me?” Harry asked, unsure he’d heard the other boy correctly.

 

Theodore sighed, his dark blue eyes shy but earnest. “He’s an idiot. It’s one thing to act like a complete slut with random nobodies, but you’re Professor Snape’s son. I don’t know what he expected was going to happen when you found out, but he’s lucky all you did was flood a room. If you’d gone running to him, your father probably would have tor…well.” Theodore cut himself off, cheeks flushing, and looked away, mumbling. “It could have been a lot worse, anyway.”

 

Harry found himself smiling at the Slytherin boy he knew the least about. Theodore was shy, and unobtrusive, and rarely spoke to anyone. Harry knew his father was a Death Eater, but he didn’t strike Harry as dangerous in the slightest. In fact, Harry had trouble picturing the boy even getting angry, let alone attacking or hurting anyone. He remembered Daphne saying she had dated him at some point and wondered if Theodore had somehow worked up the courage to ask Daphne out, or if the blonde girl had initiated things. He thought the latter far more likely.

 

“Thanks for the support.” Harry said, still grinning. “I didn’t _mean_ to flood the room, by the way. I was just a mite ticked off at the time.”

 

Theodore nodded, lowering his eyes back to his book, and Harry was speaking again before he could stop himself. “Hey, so, on Sunday afternoons my friends and I hang out in the Come-and-Go Room. Did you want to come along?”

 

Theodore raised his head again, looking surprised. Then his pale cheeks flooded with color and he nodded, very slowly. “Yes, thank you. I…would like the very much.”

 

Harry just smiled wider, letting Theodore go back to his book at that point. When they had finished eating and were heading back to the Common Room, Daphne touched Harry’s arm and said softly. “That was sweet of you, inviting Theo. He’s a quiet sort, so most everyone forgets about him.”

 

Harry nodded, thinking of what Neville had been like during their early years at Hogwarts. “It’s no problem. He seems nice.”

 

Daphne smiled at him and Harry let the subject drop.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

By the time Sunday afternoon rolled around, Harry was thoroughly ready to relax. Between Quidditch practice – Draco was a demanding Captain – and his wandless combat training – which now included Ardeth and his father, because when Harry had energy to burn, he was damned-near unstoppable – not to mention homework, Harry was _done._ Not that hanging out with his friends turned out to be as relaxing as Harry had hoped, and he blamed that on Daphne. It was entirely her fault. Well, okay, not _entirely._ But mostly. Probably mostly. Definitely at least partly, anyway. Yes, it was definitely at least partly all Daphne’s fault.

 

And possibly a little bit everyone else’s fault as well.

 

Harry had been sitting on a perfectly comfortable couch, enjoying the laughter and chatter going on around him, his eyes closed, when it had happened.

 

“I just can’t get it right.” Daphne had complained, sounding really put-out. “And I know I’m not the only one, but it’s just so frustrating to be unable to do it when so many of you lot can. Especially since I feel like I’m part of what’s holding our whole class up.”

 

“I can help.” Luna offered, making Harry blink open his eyes to glance over at the two completely different blonde girls. “It’s not as difficult as it seems at first. Once you manage it, you’ll probably wonder why you ever had trouble at all.”

 

Pansy pouted from her perch on Neville’s lap. “I just think some of us aren’t capable.” She admitted, a bit sulkily. “I mean, our House seems to be having the most trouble, right? And I don’t think any of our parents can do it, either. Patronus Charms hate Slytherins.”

 

“I can cast it.” Harry pointed out, choosing not to mention that he’d been a Gryffindor first, for obvious reasons. “And Dad can cast it as well. I know it’s hard in the beginning, but you can’t give up. The more you think you can’t do it, the harder it is.”

 

Theodore, who had been mostly quiet so far, spoke up softly. “I wouldn’t mind learning to cast a Patronus, actually. I know I don't take Defense, but it seems like a very handy spell.”

 

“We should have a lesson, right now.” Hermione enthused, clapping her hands like she’d just been promised some sort of treat. “It really is the sort of spell everyone ought to know.”

 

Ginny offered to coach Astoria when the younger girl expressed an interest in learning to cast as well, though she didn’t need to know it for her class yet. Luna and Daphne paired off, while Ron and Hermione agreed to work with Theo since he was newer to the spell than the others and would likely need extra instruction. Pansy happily agreed to let Neville help her.

 

Harry heaved himself off the couch as the room began to rearrange itself; it looked much the way it did on Friday and Saturday nights, when they were training. Which is to say, it looked quite a lot like it had in Harry’s Fifth Year, during DA sessions. Draco cleared his throat from beside Harry, drawing his attention to the smaller teen.

 

“I don’t suppose you could be persuaded to help me?” Draco asked, not meeting Harry’s eyes; it was difficult for Draco to ask for help. “I’m not sure what I’m doing wrong.”

 

Harry smiled easily at his friend. “Of course. For starters, let’s see you give it a shot so I can try to figure out where you’re messing up.”

 

Draco drew his wand, scrunched up his face, and half-yelled the incantation. “Expecto patronum!”

 

Harry found himself completely unsurprised when nothing happened, and he had to fight the urge to laugh. Draco looked as though he were angry…and perhaps a bit constipated. Neither of which were conducive to creating a spell fueled by _happy thoughts._ A quick glance around the room showed that Pansy and Daphne seemed to be having the same problem as they attempted the spell; neither looked very happy at all. And while Luna didn’t laugh, Neville couldn’t seem to help himself. Thankfully Pansy just sighed and looked at him mournfully, rather than getting angry that her boyfriend found her pitiful attempt at spell-casting so amusing.

 

Lips twitching up, Harry cleared his throat loudly to get everyone’s attention. He didn’t even really think before he did it; it was just what he’d always done during DA sessions. “Okay, look. Before anyone tries again, I want to make sure you guys all understand the basic idea here. A Patronus is made of light and joy, okay? So you’ve _got_ to think happy thoughts. Getting mad, or frustrated, or upset is completely counter-productive and only makes it harder. Happy thoughts. Got it?”

 

The Slytherins all nodded, looking attentive. Hermione, however, was looking at Harry very strangely; almost as though she were trying to read his mind. Pushing her out of his thoughts for the moment, Harry turned back to Draco. “Okay, first things first. Pick a happy thought.

 

Draco frowned, clearly thinking hard, then he nodded slowly. “Alright. Happy thought.”

 

“Okay, good. Hold that thought in the front of your mind.” Harry shifted to the side a little, curling his fingers around Draco’s wrist and bringing his hand up to the right height before releasing him. “Don’t just think about that moment, think about how you felt; all of the little things that make it a happy memory for you. _Then_ cast.”

 

Draco closed his eyes, breathing slow and deep, then said firmly. “Expecto patronum!”

 

Harry watched as a wispy silver mist flowed out of Draco’s wand. It hovered in front of him for a long moment, forming a hazy sort of wall, before dissipating. Draco frowned at it, looking disgruntled, but Harry was grinning.

 

“That was good.” Harry praised, remembering when a vague sort of mist was all _he_ could conjure, and how frustrated he’d been. “Loads better than a lot of people can manage, actually.”

 

“It wasn’t anything, though.” Draco complained, looking sulky. He turned to watch his friends cast for a moment, a little bit appeased when he realized none of them were managing much better. In truth, the room looked like it had little spots of fog throughout it, though Astoria’s seemed denser – more solid – than anyone else’s.

 

“It was a Patronus.” Harry corrected, soft but firm. “Not a proper corporeal one, true, but not at all bad for a beginner. Loads of people don’t ever get a better result than what you just managed, simply because what you conjured would hold against a single Dementor and most people don’t care about much beyond that. You only need a Patronus like mine if you’re worried about a large group of the bastards.”

 

Draco nodded, seeming a little less cranky, and admitted. “I am worried. Dementors terrify me. I want to learn to cast it properly. Just in case.”

 

Harry simply nodded in understanding. “Okay, best guess? You need a happier memory. I had that problem when I first learned the spell. I wasn’t picking a happy enough memory. If the memory isn’t strong enough, the Patronus won’t be, either.”

 

Draco nodded and Harry watched as he tried again. And again. And again.

 

When they finally called a halt to the spell-casting two hours later, only Astoria and Theodore had managed to cast a corporeal Patronus, though Draco, Daphne, and Pansy were all creating solid silver walls. Harry insisted they just needed happier memories, and more practice. Hermione helpfully pointed out that their current casting ability would be enough to let the class progress, so they could practice whenever they wanted without worrying about that.

 

All things considered, it was a productive day. It was also a step in the direction of turning the Slytherins to the Light side. It just...wasn’t very relaxing. Harry figured morosely that maybe he could relax at Christmas.

 

But factoring in his last fifteen Christmases...probably not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that you've read the chapter, I'd like to say a couple more things.
> 
> 1) Severus disapproving as a teacher, but approving as a father, is actually a pantomime of a moment from the second Princess Diaries movie. 'Mia stomps on some dude's foot 'cause he lied to her and her grandmother says, basically, "As your queen, I cannot condone such behavior. But as your grandmother, I must say...well done." I can just see Severus having that sort of attitude regarding his kid.
> 
> 2) I actually planned the scene where Harry walked in on Blaise and Zacharias back on Harry's birthday. You know, when "Epi" first met Blaise and was given a rose? Yeah. That long. I always knew Blaise was going to fuck around; I always knew it was going to be Zach. I planned the summer accordingly; I planned the whole scene on the train accordingly; I planned their seating arrangements in DADA accordingly. I even planned Harry's extra classes with the intention of Hermione achieving her transformation and thus having everyone too excited for dueling so Harry could catch them in the act. I planned it all. O_O And it's been written for months. So finally being able to let everyone read it is fantastically exciting for me and I really want to know what you all think!
> 
> 3) Zacharias Smith has always needled me the wrong way. I tend to do horrible things to him in fics - such as having him get beaten nearly to death or poisoned or whatnot - or make him a horrible person - in a Next-Gen Teddy/Albus Severus fic I wrote, I make a passing mention to the fact that Zach tries to get a 16 year old Scorpius to sleep with him - but I actually REALLY like him in this fic. He's as-much the victim as Harry, if not more so considering he is consistently cheated on and just loves Blaise too much to leave him, which is mostly just really, _really_ sad. So I enjoyed having him gain that small moment of victory over "Epitome" - where he had Blaise inside him, locked eyes with the boy he viewed as "stealing" Blaise from him, and just got to savor the tiny triumph of knowing that right then, _he_ had won. In that moment, Blaise is _his_ and Harry knows it. Zach needed that moment; he earned it.
> 
> 4) I know Blaise is a giant douchecanoe. Trust me; I know, cause I wrote him that way. But I adored him in that whole scene. I adore the way he is with Zach. You know, other than the cheating, though that's more of an issue with Zach not being ballsy enough to put his foot down and I'm going to address that eventually, just as soon as that Fluff-n-puff and I have a serious talk about how to handle the Slytherin assbutt he's letting fuck him. But the rest of it? The way they look together; the way they move together; the way he knows how to take Zach apart piece by piece and put him back together again without Zach loosing any of his mouthy attitude (which he promptly directs at Harry) is fantastic. So as much as I was furious at Blaise for cheating...I loved writing him with Zach, for the sheer perfection they are together.
> 
> 5) I loved writing that scene. The way Harry felt; the way Harry saw it - not just actions, but the emotions behind them; not just motions, but the thoughts and feelings driving them - and the way Harry understood that Zach wasn't the one at fault, but was in fact a bigger victim that he himself was...well. It was all so much fun to write. As was Blaise in full-dominant-mode, with a completely consensual partner who understood what he'd gotten himself into. And Zach was delicious to write as a submissive, because he might bend to Blaise's will - might even surrender his body entirely to the other boy - but it's clear he never gives away the core of himself; he never changes who he is under it all. He lets Blaise reassure him and such, but he's not meek or hesitant about having voiced his displeasure to begin with. So.
> 
> As much as I sometimes hated this Blaise, and as much as Zach normally bothers me, I am eagerly anticipating seeing more of them later in the story because these versions of them really do make the perfect couple.
> 
> Remember, comments are love! <3
> 
> ~ LS


	12. Chapter Eleven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone, LadySlytherin's computer died right before she went on vacation. She asked her pre-readers to post this chapter so all you lovelies's can enjoy it. When she come home and back online she'll update this with her own A/N~!

Harry found himself wildly swept away by everyday life at Hogwarts. Between pretending Blaise didn’t exist - a feat made more difficult by the way Zacharias hung all over him whenever Harry was present, as though trying to stake claim on something Harry no longer wanted in the first place - and classes, not to mention training and Quidditch, life was hectic. Factor in homework, time with his dad, and trying to have some sort of social life, and Harry was seriously considering petitioning the Ministry for a time-turner.

So it wasn’t all that surprising when Harry woke up one morning and realized he had a week until Christmas, and only a few short days until Christmas break. He wasn’t quite sure where the time had gone, but he was more than eager for a break of any sort. He only had three days of classes left to get through; then he could just _relax_. Break couldn’t come soon enough.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Epi.” Harry looked up from where he was using his wand to shave wood away from a block in front of him; he wasn’t sure what he was making yet, but he’d figure it out as he went. “Have you decided on your final project yet?”

Harry shrugged; Bathsheda unnerved him slightly, with the intent way she always studied him. “Not exactly, professor.” He knew it annoyed her to be called that, but Harry wasn’t fond of her so he didn’t really care. “I suppose I’ll make something with wood, since it’s the material I’ve got to learn to work with, but I haven’t decided what I’ll make yet.”

“Hmmm.” Bathsheda’s mouth pursed for a moment, then she smiled sweetly. “Well, remember that you’ll be starting on it just as soon as break is over. You’ll need to decide soon.”

Harry just nodded absently; his attention was already back on his work. Bathsheda huffed out an annoyed little breath as she moved on.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Harry’s final potion’s class before Christmas break was...different. Harry walked in to find a large cauldron filled with a soft pink potion. It had a strange mother-of-pearl sheen to it, and the steam rising from the surface did so in distinctive little spirals. Harry blinked at it, recognizing it instantly as a love potion. Why in the world did his dad have a giant cauldron full of love potion in a room full of teenagers? That just seemed...reckless, really. A little irresponsible, too.

After a moment, Harry caught a faint glimmer near the floor, right in front of the cauldron, and couldn’t help grinning. Severus Snape was _not_ a stupid man, and there was a protection spell - a ward of some sort, though Harry wasn’t sure what precisely - around the cauldron. No one was going to steal a love potion from _his_ classroom; ever. 

When Theo sat beside Harry, he offered the former-Gryffindor a small, shy smile. “Hello, Epitome.”

Harry smiled back; Theo was incredibly endearing. “Hey, Theo. You know you’re allowed to call me Epi, right? I know my name’s a mouthful.”

Theodore’s eyes sparkled a little bit, bright blue and oddly open considering how reserved he was. “I find nicknames a bit...intimidating. They imply a level of closeness and intimacy I find...discomfitting.”

“Oh.” Harry didn’t quite know what to say to that, but he offered quickly. “Would you prefer it if I called you Theodore, instead of Theo?”

Theodore’s eyes brightened further and his smile grew, lips parting to reveal just the faintest glimmer of white teeth. “Oh, no. It’s alright. I’m getting used to it.” He dropped his eyes and added shyly. “I will attempt to call you Epi, as well.”

Severus cleared his throat from the front of the room, and Harry gave Theo one last smile before turning his attention to his father. The rest of the class fell instantly silent as well.

“For those of you have not yet guessed, we will not be brewing today.” Severus drawled, something everyone should have picked up on right away since none of their tables were set up as work stations, but instead had been blank. “Today, we will be having a different sort of practical lesson.”

There was a tense pause, during which several students gave each other wary looks. There was something oddly threatening about Severus’ words. Even Harry had to take a moment to remind himself that his father wasn’t going to do anything that would actually _harm_ his students. Especially not in a class that contained his son.

“Who can tell me what this potion is?” Severus asked, smiling coldly.

Draco’s hand flew up into the air. Though he couldn’t see her, since she was behind him, Harry knew Hermione’s hand was probably waving almost-frantically. A couple of other students had their hands up as well, and Harry cautiously put his own up. He wasn’t _positive_ about which love potion it was, but since this was a NEWT-level class - and Severus liked to challenge his students - the odds were pretty good that it was the most powerful of them. Amortentia.

Surprisingly, Severus called on Hermione. “Miss Granger. Enlighten us.”

Everyone turned in their seats to watch Hermione preen as she answered. “That’s Amortentia, sir. It’s the strongest love potion, though of course it doesn’t create _real love_. Just lust, longing, and obsession. It’s most distinctive quality - in addition to those we can see, like the spiralling steam and distinctive pearl sheen - is that it smells different to everyone, according to what attracts them.”

Severus inclined his head. “Very good, Miss Granger. Most informative. Five points to Gryffindor.” He paused, then asked. “Would you come up here and tell everyone what the potion smells like to you?”

“Oh, well...” Hermione stammered for a moment, blushing, then nodded slowly. “I suppose, though of course that’s personal...”

Slowly, Hermione stood and approached the front of the room. When she was beside the cauldron, she breathed deeply through her nose, letting it out on a little sigh. Her lips curved up and she said. “It smells like freshly cut grass, and new parchment, and...” She paused, her eyes moving to Ron for a moment, before finishing softly. “And Ron’s hair.”

Severus coughed quietly and Hermione looked over at him, startled, because if she hadn’t suspected the professor had no sense of humor she would have _sworn_ he’d been covering up a laugh. But his face was serious as he nodded towards her seat. “You may sit, Miss Granger.”

Hermione nodded, hurrying back to her stool beside Ron, who was grinning goofily at her. She rolled her eyes, but reached out and grabbed his hand, tangling their fingers just because she could. Ron gave a light squeeze and Hermione smiled broadly before turning her attention back to Severus.

“Now, I require a volunteer.” Severus said, his voice a low, velvety purr that was both enticing and deeply terrifying at the same time.

For a long moment, no one moved; not even Harry. Then something on Severus’ face changed - just ever so slightly - as he locked gazes with his godson, and Draco raised his hand. “I’ll volunteer.”

Severus smiled tightly and inclined his head. Draco stepped up to the cauldron and waited for instructions, not assuming his would be the same as Hermione’s had been.

Severus didn’t keep him waiting for long. “Firstly, Draco, what do you smell?”

Draco closed his eyes, breathing deeply. He seemed to freeze that way, for a long moment, then slowly breathed out. His eyes opened and he said simply. “I smell leather, and raspberry chocolate, and motorcycle exhaust.”

Harry sucked in an audible breath, nearly toppling off of his stool. Theodore shot him a concerned look, but Harry didn’t notice. All he could think about was trips to Diagon Alley, and chocolate raspberry sundaes, and teaching Draco to ride his motorcycle, and...oh. _Oh_.

Severus’ eyes moved to him and Harry gave a minute shake of his head, a frantic, pleading look in his emerald eyes. He was panicking; he needed a minute. He needed ten minutes. He needed a week, at least, to digest this. Oh Merlin...he couldn’t focus just then. Severus, it seemed, had absolutely no sympathy for his son’s plight.

“Epi, if you could join us up front, please. I require a second person’s assistance.” Severus’ words were a polite request, but Harry knew an order when he heard one.

On legs he tried to pretend didn’t shake, Harry joined them by the cauldron. Harry took a nervous breath, but it caught in his throat as he tried to analyze it. He desperately hoped Severus wasn’t going to ask him what he smelled, because he was so _not_ ready for that question. Not at all. But it was...god, it was treacle tart, and broomstick wax, and...vanilla. Sweet, simple vanilla. Harry’s eyes flicked to Draco, then darted nervously away again. No, he was definitely _not_ ready for this.

“Epi...” Harry’s eyes snapped to his father’s face at the sound of his name. “If you could ladle up a little bit of the potion, please...thank you.”

Harry took the ladle from Severus with a trembling hand, then obligingly dipped it into the potion. He brought it up out of the cauldron, then held it awkwardly, wondering what he was supposed to do next. He just wanted to go hide in his dorm room for a month or so and try to understand what he was meant to do with the knowledge that one of his best friends - the one who had been steadfastly there while he dealt with Blaise’s betrayal - apparently had a...a _thing_ for him. It was...uncomfortable, to say the least, to be standing there, next to Draco, over a steaming cauldron of Amortentia, with that knowledge bouncing around inside of his skull, all sorts of new and demanding. Damned uncomfortable, in fact.

Severus’ next words hit Harry like a sucker punch. “Epi, give the ladle to Draco so that he can drink.” He paused for a moment, then added. “I have the antidote prepared, so do not worry that anything will get out of hand.”

Draco’s chin came up and he held out his hand for the ladle. Harry passed it over, feeling weak and dizzy and wishing he understood what was happening, and why. Grey eyes locked to green as Draco brought the silver metal to his lips and sipped the pink liquid; Harry’s stomach was doing uneasy flips in his belly.

As Draco drank, slow and steady, Severus explained to the class. “It would be inappropriate to personally administer such a potion to a student, as the student would briefly be in my thrall. Accordingly, Draco could not have administered it to himself as it only works on a separate person. The reason you are seeing this display is so that you will understand the dangers and harms inherent in a potion of this nature. They are not toys; they are not to be played with. They are dangerous and are restricted by the Ministry with good reason, which you will see momentarily.”

Draco swallowed the last of the dose and handed the ladle back to his professor, eyes still locked on Harry’s pale, nervous face. Harry watched as Draco’s face lost the small amount of color it had; he looked oddly vulnerable. His eyes went sharp, the pupils blowing wide, and a needy look was instantly painted across his face. Harry sucked in a sharp breath as a desperate little sound passed Draco’s lips, the blonde stepping forward without hesitation; seemingly without thought.

Harry took a quick step back, bringing his hands up to ward Draco off, and the blonde’s face fell. His eyes went dark and sad, and his mouth trembled. He froze, seemingly unable to decide what to do now that Harry had rejected him. And it _hurt_. It actually hurt Harry, to see that miserable look on Draco’s face. He wanted to kick himself for putting it there; he felt like the lowest sort of scum.

Harry ignored the class, who was murmuring over the way such a small action on Harry’s part had caused such a drastic reaction on Draco’s end. They weren’t important. What mattered was Draco, and soothing the pain off of his pretty face.

“I’m sorry.” Harry said, moving closer to Draco and keeping his voice as soothing as he could. “You just startled me. It’s fine. I’m not angry or anything. Come here.”

Instantly Draco looked hopeful, grey eyes shining as he stepped right up to Harry. He still looked fragile somehow, as though the slightest wrong move could shatter him, and when he spoke it was in a breathless murmur. “You don’t hate me? You...you promise?”

Harry’s heart twisted uncomfortably at the fear in those words and he hastened to reassure Draco. “Of course I don’t hate you.” He reached out and brushed Draco’s hair back from his eyes, smiling just a little when Draco leaned into the light touch. “Don’t be silly, Draco. I could never hate you.”

Draco turned his head a little, nuzzling into Harry’s hand. Then he flicked his eyes to the side, glancing at Harry, and pressed a quick kiss to Harry’s palm. Harry sucked in another sharp, startled breath but didn’t retreat; he couldn’t without hurting Draco again.

Severus cleared his throat, then said. “Epi, if you would indulge me for a moment...please go stand outside the classroom.” Harry moved to obey and Draco started to follow, but Severus stopped him. “No, Draco. You stay here.”

Even as Harry walked away, towards the door, words were spilling from Draco’s mouth in a desperate, pleading rush. “Why? Why are you taking him away from me, Sev? Why would you do that? I love him, you know. I need him. Please don’t keep him away from me.” Harry glanced back over his shoulder to see Draco clutching at the sleeve of Severus’ robes, face anguished, eyes sheened with tears.

“Don’t you think I’m good enough for him?” Draco continued, voice tight and low and miserable. “I wouldn’t hurt him, Sev. I wouldn’t. I love him, I promise I do. Please make him come back.”

Harry paused with his hand on the door handle, looking back at where Draco was still pleading with Severus while the class watched in stunned silence. It was the look on Blaise’s face, though, that made Harry’s decision for him. Blaise was watching Draco with a faint smirk, looking viciously pleased to see the pain Draco was going through. Unable to stand it, Harry ignored Severus’ order and hurried back to Draco’s side, intent on soothing him.

“It’s fine.” Harry said, tugging Draco away from Severus and into his arms, letting the smaller, distraught teen nestle into his chest while he stroked his back soothingly. “Shhh, it’s fine. I’m right here. I haven’t left you, I promise. It’s alright. You’re alright.”

“May I ask why you didn’t leave the room?” Severus asked, though he didn’t sound angry. “I was attempting to show the class some of the more harmful... _side-effects_ of this potion.”

“I think they get the picture.” Harry breathed back, struggling not to unleash his temper on his father. “It’s just cruel. I couldn’t...I couldn’t see him like that. It’s not fair; it’s not _right_. No one should be made to feel like that; that sort of fear and desperation. Nothing about that is okay.”

“Precisely.” Severus agreed, ignoring the way his godson was nuzzling into his son’s throat, making contented little kitten sounds. “People often forget - or choose to ignore - the fact that a love potion is inaptly named. It is not love; it is need and obsession. Infatuation. It is unhealthy, and unfounded, and taking advantage of someone in such a state is no better than taking someone by force.”

Harry nodded, trying to ignore the way Draco’s mouth felt on his throat; soft and sweet and just a little bit damp, as though Draco’s lips were slightly parted. He kept picturing the day they’d gone school shopping, and the look on Draco’s face as he’d sucked Harry’s thumb into his mouth. Put together with what Draco said Amortentia smelled like and Harry was swiftly coming to the realization that he was a complete and total idiot. How had he not seen it? How had he not _realized?_ Dozens of moments - looks, and comments, and mood swings - from the past few months flitted through Harry’s mind, making him wonder how he’d ever _not_ seen it in the first place.

And as he slid his arms around Draco’s waist, tugging the blonde closer to him, Harry wondered how he could have so completely ignored the feelings he had for Draco.

Severus was still talking - explaining some of the other side-effects that went hand-in-hand with love potions, and just generally educating the class - and Harry knew this wasn’t the time or the place for mind-blowing revelations. He needed time, and space, and distance to think this through. _Without_ a gorgeous Slytherin pressed against him, warm and willing and smelling oh-so-sweet. That was obviously going to have to wait, though. He still had the rest of the day’s classes to get through, and Friday’s classes as well. But then it was the weekend, and Christmas break, and he would be able to think.

“Please make Draco drink this.” Severus said, holding a small potion vial out to Harry; it no doubt contained the antidote.

Harry took it and nudged Draco gently back from him, smiling when Draco looked up at him, wide-eyed and eager. ‘Yes, Epi?” He asked, breathless and sweet. “What is it?”

“I need you to drink something.” Harry told him, holding up the little vial. “Can you do that for me?”

Draco nodded and took the potion, swallowing it down without even asking what it was. Almost instantly he seemed to deflate, looking wan and miserable. Harry was instantly concerned. “Is he okay?”

“Coming down from the high of a love potion is like being hungover and depressed at the same time.” His dad’s voice was soothing, and a touch sympathetic. “Draco, would you like to ride it out naturally or would you like a small cheering charm?”

Draco groaned, scrubbing his hands over his face for a moment. Harry really thought he would accept the offer of the charm, but after a minute he shook his head and straightened up, forcing a smile that looked more like a grimace onto his face. “No, thank you. I’m fine.”

Severus nodded and Draco moved to retake his seat. Harry followed suit, taking his own place beside Theo, who was taking notes in neat, tiny letters. Harry struggled to make his mind focus on what Severus was saying, but after a few minutes he gave up. He could always borrow someone’s notes later. Instead, he let the idea of Draco chase itself around his mind, his eyes flicking over to the other Slytherin boy ever so often, making sure he was okay. It was definitely an enlightening class.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When Potions let out, Harry didn’t hesitate. He shoved his things into his bag and hurried after Draco, who had all but run from the classroom. He waved off the concerned look his father gave him; he would talk to Severus later. He caught up with the blonde halfway to the Intrinsic Magic classroom and grabbed his arm, tugging him to a halt. The girl Draco had been walking with – a Hufflepuff named Sally-Anne Perks who was in both Potions and Intrinsic Magic with them – stopped as well, looking concerned. She was a sweet girl, really, but Harry had no patience for her just then and not a lot of time before they had to be in class.

“We’ll be along in a minute, Sally.” He told her, not looking away from Draco’s face. The other Slytherin was pointedly looking anywhere but back at him, but Harry didn’t care. “Let Professor Vector know we might be a couple of minutes late.”

For a moment Sally-Anne hesitated, and Harry thought she might argue, but she didn’t. “Don’t take too long.” She then hurried off.

Harry ignored the other students around them; none of them were paying them any attention anyway, too concerned with getting to and from classes to be bothered with anyone else. “We need to talk.”

“Yes, but this is hardly the time or the place.” Draco replied, finally looking up. There was a strange bleakness in his grey eyes and Harry hated seeing it; hated that he’d put it there by being so oblivious for so long. “Just…later, Epi. Please.”

Harry nodded, releasing Draco’s arm. “Fine. Later.” He huffed out a breath, then asked. “ _When_ later? I don’t want to put this off forever. It needs to be…sorted out.”

Draco nodded jerkily, mentally assessing their respective schedules. “How…how about on Sunday, after everyone leaves? I assume you and Severus are staying for the holidays, as he usually does?”

Harry blinked, because he hadn’t even realized that he and Draco hadn’t discussed Christmas plans. How could he have not discussed Christmas with him? “Er, no…actually, we’re going home. You…you’re staying here then? I just thought…oh.”

Draco shrugged uncomfortably, glancing at his watch before fidgeting nervously. “We’re going to be late, Epi. I can’t…I can’t do this right now. Just…when break is over. We can talk then.”

Harry’s heart clenched in fear at the idea of waiting that long to address this. If he didn’t do it soon, he might lose his nerve. Or maybe Draco would change his mind; give up on Harry ever figuring this whole tangled mess out and just move on. No, that was unacceptable. It had to be soon. “No, we’ll talk on Sunday. When we get home. You’re coming with us. Dad’s your godfather; no reason you can’t spend the holiday with us.” Seeing that Draco was about to object, Harry cut in. “I mean it. We need to talk about this, and it’s not something that can wait. So you’re coming home with me Sunday and we’ll talk.”

Swallowing hard and glancing at his watch again, Draco nodded miserably. “Fine. I suppose I can always Floo back after our talk if…if things prove too awkward.” He gave Harry a pleading look and added. “Can we not talk about this again until then, please?”

Harry nodded, wondering if Draco was as clueless about how Harry felt as Harry had been about how Draco felt. Seeing the anxiety melt off Draco’s face – though it lurked in those slate-colored eyes – he figured it was likely. Of course, considering Harry had only just realized he had feelings at all, and he wasn’t even sure what exactly they were, he supposed it wasn’t too surprising. It stung a bit, though, that Draco was apparently worried Harry was going to make things uncomfortable between them. Or, Harry realized a moment later, perhaps Draco thought Harry would be uncomfortable _around_ Draco, now that he knew how Draco felt. Which, if he didn’t have these… _feelings_ …for Draco, he very well might. Shaking his head, Harry decided to put it aside for now.

Sunday would be soon enough to worry about it.

Harry gestured up the hall, towards the Intrinsic Magic room, and said softly. “Come on. We’re already late. Best not to take any longer.”

When they stepped into the room a few minutes later, Harry blinked in surprise. The whole class was spread out, in pairs, talking quietly to their partners. Professor Vector was waiting for them, one eyebrow raised in question. “Finally here, I see.”

“It’s my fault, Professor.” Harry said immediately, stepping forward with an apologetic smile. “We were learning about love potions last class and Draco was briefly under the influence, for learning purposes, and I was just…concerned for him. He refused a cheering charm after the antidote and seemed just a bit…well, run down.”

Professor Vector nodded, giving Draco a concerned look. “Are you feeling better, Draco? If you need to be excused, I can explain your assignment and then let you go to lie down. Or I can cast a cheering charm, if you’ve reconsidered that option.”

“I’m fine.” Draco assured her, smiling tiredly. “Epitome is a worrier, that’s all.”

“Hmmm.” Vector seemed skeptical, but she let the issue drop. “Well, your assignment for second semester is a partner-project. As you two were not present, I partnered you together. That way the other sets could begin discussing things.”

Draco was frowning, but he nodded slowly. “What are we supposed to be doing?”

“You are to create something. Whatever you like, I’m not picky.” Vector waved a hand dismissively as though the choice really was irrelevant to her. “The only rules are that it must be created with _both_ of your magic, and you may not use your wands at all. And please, boys, believe me when I say that if your wands are used, I _will_ know.”

Harry and Draco both grinned, assuming that past-students had attempted to fool her and failed. Harry was interested in something else she had said, anyway. “When you say using both our magic, I get the feeling you don’t mean he does half and I do half and we put them together…right?”

“Correct.” Vector inclined her head, smiling slightly. “You will need to learn to blend your power together to create a single, fluid result. I don’t expect anything flashy, mind you, though you will have the rest of the year to work on it. Most of that time will be spent learning to combine and channel your magic as a single force. This is not something that is easy to do and most students rarely manage it beyond the most basic-level.”

Harry and Draco nodded again and Vector pointed towards their cushions, which were off by themselves, away from anyone else, like each of the other pairs. “Feel free to discuss your project, or begin working on it, if you like.”

Harry and Draco nodded, then moved to settle on their cushions. Once there, Harry said. “Until we can get our magic to combine, I don’t see the point in trying to decide what we’re going to make. So I figure we should start on that part first.”

Draco agreed. “That makes the most sense. After all, if we end up with a week to create something, our options will be vastly different than if we wind up with two months to create something.” He shot Harry a nervous look from under his eyelashes, then asked softly. “How should we start?”

“Well…color seems like a good place.” Harry said, frowning as he considered the possibilities. “I mean, we started with color individually, right?”

He drew his wand, ignoring the frown Vector gave him, and conjured a stone – it was round and made of beautiful green and black marble, and it was the size of a snitch. Vector was at their side in an instant, arms crossed over her chest as she huffily chastised them. “What have I told you boys about wand magic in this room? I shouldn’t need to tell you again!”

Harry grinned, completely unrepentant. “We needed something to practice on.” Harry explained, holding up the stone for her to see. “We’re going to try to make it change colors _together_. Seemed like a decent starting point.”

Vector blinked, taken aback for a moment. Then she beamed at them with motherly pride. “Well, that’s actually very clever, boys. Most students struggle with trying to make their magic combine for weeks before realizing they should start with something simple.” She shot Harry a stern look. “Next time, ask ? _me_ to conjure something for you. Wand magic clouds the air in here.”

Draco and Harry chirped cheerful apologies and Vector walked away, waving her hand in the air as she went. Harry wondered if she was cleansing the air of his residual wand-casting. He turned back to Draco after a moment and held out the stone. “So, how do you think we should do this?”

Draco reached out and placed his hand – palm down – over Harry’s, cupping the stone between their hands. “I guess we just both focus on it.”

“Okay.” Harry thought for a moment, then asked. “What color should we make it turn?”

Draco gave a little half-shrug, eyes flitting nervously around the room. “I don’t know. Something simple, I guess? Like blue. A simple, solid blue.”

Harry nodded and closed his eyes, breathing deeply and slowly; focusing on the color blue. He brought it into his mind; a deep, rich azure. Bottle blue, or cobalt; he wasn’t sure which. The color of his dead relative’s eyes…when Anathema was feeling sad, anyway. The color of the sky above Hogwarts in summer, just before they went home for the year, when it was warm and cloudless and so beautiful it almost hurt to look at it. Too-blue, really.

Suddenly the stone between their hands went white-hot. Both Draco and Harry cried out, jerking back from the scorching heat that had marred both their palms with angry red circles. Harry frowned down at the throbbing, aching skin while Draco whimpered softly beside him. Vector hurried over again, concerned, and Harry felt bad for making her run back across the classroom so soon before he glanced at his watch and realized he and Draco had been silently holding that rock for almost two hours. It had seemed like _seconds_.

Vector soothed their burns rather quickly, using her wand to do so before clearing the air as she had earlier because, as she pointed out, medical spells were _not_ her area of expertise. “Are you both alright, though?” Her concern was clear. “What happened?”

Draco reached for the stone cautiously, holding it out for her and Harry to see, mouth open in shock. It was no longer green and black marble. It was now a spiraling, tie-dyed mess of the deep, rich blue that Harry had been envisioning and a soft, silvery blue that was nearly the same color as the Swedish Shortsnout that Cedric had tried to get past during the Triwizard Tournament two years earlier. The two colors wrapped around each other, but never seemed to mix or overlap since it was just the two colors, pure and entirely separate.

“I don’t think our magic is very compatible.” Draco’s voice was soft, but very serious. He brushed one finger over the lighter color and said. “This color is mine.”

“Yeah.” Harry cleared his throat awkwardly. “Er, the other one is mine, obviously. But why did it get so hot all of a sudden?”

Vector plucked the rock from Draco’s hand, studying it curiously. “Well, this is…interesting. Your magic met, but rather than twining together it fought, vying for dominance and control.” She glanced at them and added. “It happened because you are both so powerful. Typically, the more-powerful magic guides the weaker magic and they blend like that. Yours clashed, causing the heat you felt, because neither set of magic was willing to bow to the will of the other and neither of you is skilled enough in this sort of thing to force the other's magic to submit.”

Dropping the stone onto the cushion between then, she added. “I would advise you to pick a specific _shade_ next time, rather than a general color, to ensure you are both perfectly focused on the precise result you wish to achieve. That will hopefully tone-down the clashing.”

Flushing under the stares of the rest of the class – who had gathered around them after they had cried out in pain – Draco and Harry nodded. Harry picked up the stone to study it, turning it over in his hands as he considered the way the two colors spiraled around each other. It was oddly beautiful.

Clapping her hands, Vector addressed everyone. “I know you lot technically have another half hour, but in light of the approaching holiday…you’re all dismissed. Enjoy your break.”

Harry slowly got to his feet, eyes still on the stone he held as he reached for his bag. When he looked up again, Draco was gone.

Harry wasn’t sure why he was surprised.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Friday’s classes were over before Harry knew it, and then there was just one day left until the train ride back to London and _the talk_. Harry spent Saturday in Hogsmeade, shopping for the last few gifts he needed. He was grateful for the fact that most of the stores offered gift-wrapping, and delivery. That way he didn’t need to worry about sending out the gifts he bought for his friends, whether they’d be at the castle or not.

He had, of course, already bought Draco’s gift. Weeks earlier, actually. But he had something else in mind now, and he hurried to get the order placed before it was too late. Thankfully, the shop’s owner - Lindy - had been more than happy to handle the special order, last-minute though it was, and Harry assured her he would come back for any further jewelry needs he might have. 

Draco was trying to be normal around Harry, but it wasn’t working very well. He was tense, and shifty-eyed, and Harry kept wanting to just _talk_ already, but they’d agreed. Sunday, at home. Harry dealt with the awkward silences, and the tension, and the nerves. So did everyone else. Sunday couldn’t come soon enough, and Harry imagined it would be the longest train ride of his life, but if he could just get through it...well, he had a feeling it would _definitely_ be worth it.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It was, in fact, the longest train ride of his life. Harry and Draco grabbed a taxi once they reached London. It dropped them in front of the Leaky - though of course the cab driver couldn’t see it - and the boys swiftly grabbed their trunks and hauled them through Tom’s Floo to Severus’ house. The sun was down by the time they reached Wiltshire and settled in, with Draco’s things in the room beside Harry’s for no reason other than that Harry had asked Severus to put him there. Severus, for reasons all his own, agreed.

Dinner was a strained, silent affair. Severus struggled to keep the smirk off his face at the tension radiating off of Draco and Harry. Harry had spoken to him Saturday night, after his lesson with Remus, and explained that things might be a little weird between him and Draco for a day or two, but he was trying to fix it and he could really use Sev’s support. 

Severus was really hoping Harry handled this the way he wanted him to, but promised Harry he’d support him no matter how things turned out. Harry had all but wilted with relief at that.

Once dinner was over, Harry softly cleared his throat. “Dad, can we be excused?”

Severus looked between Harry’s serious face and the carefully-blank expression Draco wore, sighed softly, and nodded. “Of course. But Epi...we need to discuss Tuesday, first thing tomorrow. I was...not anticipating you arriving with Draco. This could cause...complications.”

Harry bit his lip, but nodded. “I know. I...I’m going to work on that tonight. I swear. It’s...it’s going to be fine, I promise.” He flicked his eyes to Draco and asked pleadingly. “Draco...if you’re ready, can we talk in my room, please? Now?”

Draco nodded stiffly, pushing his chair back from the table and standing. He turned to face Severus and gave an equally-stiff, rather formal bow, his back ramrod straight. “Severus, thank you for having me in your home, and I apologize for any inconvenience my presence has caused. If necessary, I will return to Hogwarts tomorrow. Excuse me.”

Before Severus could say anything, Draco had fled the room with all of the grace and poise bred into his family for countless generations. Sighing, Severus quirked an eyebrow at his son. “You need to fix that, Epitome. _Now_.”

Harry hurried after Draco without a word, intending to do just that.

When he reached his room, Draco was standing awkwardly in front of the door. His arms were folded around his stomach and he was staring at his feet. Harry rolled his eyes, reaching around Draco to open the door. “I sort of expected you to _go in_ , you know. Not lurk in the hallway. Bit creepy, that.”

Draco didn’t even smile; he simply followed Harry silently into his room, still staring at the floor. He seemed to have pulled into himself and Harry struggled silently for a moment, wondering what the best way to get Draco to open up would be. He debated several opening lines, but words weren’t his friends most of the time and he didn’t want to say the wrong thing. He also didn’t want to push Draco too hard, too fast; this whole thing was new and terrifying. Chewing on his lip, Harry had a sudden idea.

He touched Draco’s shoulder lightly, then waiting until the blonde looked up at him. “Go open the third compartment on my trunk. There’s something you need to see.

“I...what?” Draco seemed confused; a bit dazed, in fact. But when Harry nodded at the trunk, he moved towards it, murmuring softly. “Thought you wanted to talk...”

Still, he knelt in front of the trunk and pressed the catches for the correct compartment, then slowly lifted the lid. He frowned, because he appeared to be staring into a rubbish bin. The compartment was half-filled with...parchment. And notebook paper. And sketch paper. Scraps, and full pages. Some of it was neatly stacked or rolled; some of it was crumpled up; some of it was torn and taped back together; one piece was charred around the edges. With curiosity getting the better of him, Draco reached for that piece.

He could feel Harry standing behind him, watching, as he lifted the burnt scrap of heavy paper and studied it. Inside the burnt edges was...a sketch. Of eyes, Draco realized. Eyes that were narrowed in anger; eyes that looked accusatory. Eyes that...

Draco reached back into the trunk, grabbing another paper at random. Thick parchment this time, and Draco stared down at the eyes drawn there. Laughing, with little lines at the corners; bright and shining and happy this time. Frantic, Draco grabbed one of the rolled up scrolls. Harry shifted behind him, moving a little bit closer, but Draco ignored him in favor of unrolling the scroll. He sucked in a shuddering breath when he saw a dozen pairs of eyes staring up at him from the parchment - laughing, angry, pleading, sleepy...it was too much, but Draco couldn’t stop.

He pulled out pages and scraps and scrolls by the handful, shifting through them almost desperately, not understanding. He _knew_ these eyes, because they were ones he saw every day. Ones he’d been seeing every day for as long as he could remember. Eyes he knew because...well, because they were _his_. He didn’t understand, though. Not why the sketches existed, or why they were tucked away in this trunk’s compartment, or why he was being shown them. He didn’t understand at all. Before he quite knew what was happening, Draco was half-buried in drawings; paper and parchment littered the floor around him, scattered across the carpet and his legs; surrounded by a sea of staring eyes, all belonging to himself. It was beyond unnerving.

After a long pause - during which Harry said nothing and Draco simply stared at the chaos around him - Draco reached back into the trunk. He noticed that one side of the trunk had scrolls that were rolled up and then tied with ribbon, holding them shut. He hadn’t opened any of those; only the ones that were loosely-rolled and mixed in with the scrap-paper, parchment, sketch-paper mess. Now, however, curiosity drove Draco onwards.

He grabbed one of the ribbon-tied scrolls and carefully undid the bow. Harry made a small sound - it was halfway between terrified and embarrassed, with an edge of distress - but Draco didn’t care. He slowly unrolled the scroll, then tensed all over.

Blushing like mad, Harry snatched the scroll out of Draco’s hands, carefully rolling it back up. “I, er...I didn’t expect you to look at...at that one...I...”

He trailed off and Draco stared up at him, confusion and shock vying for dominance in his brain. The image from the drawing - it had been far too detailed to call a ‘sketch’ and was done in full color - was burned into his brain; he didn’t think he’d ever be able to shake it lose. Wasn’t sure he wanted to, in fact.

It had been himself, but...not in any way he’d ever imagined seeing drawn out. Not in any situation he’d ever _actually_ been in, either. He’d been on his knees, completely nude. His eyes had been half-lidded, pupils blown wide with lust, gaze heated and intense. And his mouth...Merlin, his _mouth_. It was stretched wide, lips wrapped around a cock, _sucking_. His cheeks had been hollowed, and the drawing was...beautifully, disturbingly detailed, in that there had been a distinctive wet shine to his lips, and even a gleam of saliva leaking down his chin. 

And the cock...sweet Salazar, but the side-view of the drawing left no doubt as to who it belonged to. The long, slender fingers of one hand were tangled in Draco’s white-blonde hair, while the other hand was fisted and pressed desperately to the wall that the taller teen was leaning against. His head had been thrown back, mouth open, face contorted in pleasure. His eyes had been nearly closed, but the vibrant green gleamed brightly under dark lashes. Draco couldn’t believe what he’d seen but, for the first time since Harry had said they needed to talk, hope blossomed in his chest.

“Epi...” Draco breathed, still staring up at Harry. “I...you...you drew that?”

Harry’s face burned red, but he nodded because...well, because there really wasn’t much point in denying it, was there? “I, er...yeah. I just...couldn’t seem to help myself.”

Draco’s eyes flicked back to the chest - to the hundreds of images of his eyes, and then to the half-dozen other scrolls tied up with ribbons - and asked softly. “When?”

“Your eyes? All year.” Harry admitted, glancing away nervously. “I didn’t know why I couldn’t...couldn’t get them out of my head. Every time I closed my eyes...there they were. I couldn’t seem to stop drawing them, no matter how hard I tried.”

Draco nodded, accepting that easier than he thought he would have if not for the _other_ drawing. “And...the ones with the ribbons?”

“Oh, well...” Harry bit his lip, then crouched down to pluck the ribbon Draco had dropped from amid the mess of sketches, looping it carefully around the scroll while studiously avoiding Draco’s probing gaze. “I drew those on Saturday night. I...couldn’t sleep, worrying about today. So I just...drew the whole night. I couldn’t seem to stop. They aren’t all so... _complete_. It’s just my luck that you’d pick that one to look at, isn’t it? Just my luck.”

Draco swallowed hard, watching as Harry carefully placed the re-ribboned scroll with the others. Part of him wanted to look at the others, but he wasn’t sure how much more he could take right then. “What exactly are you saying, Epi?”

“I...” Harry’s hands fidgeted nervously with nothing and his mouth felt inexplicably dry. “I don’t really know, except that...I care about you. A lot. And...I’d really like to...to kiss you.”

Draco’s mouth moved soundlessly for a moment, then he nodded.

Harry grinned, relieved beyond words, and stood, holding out his hand to Draco. Draco took it, letting himself be pulled to his feet. Harry brushed his knuckles softly against Draco’s cheek, then curled his fingers around Draco’s chin, tipping the shorter teen’s face up. Draco’s eyes were nervous; bright and hopeful, but a little wary as well. Harry thought he could understand that, considering. He took a trembling breath, then leaned down.

Harry paused, just like that, with the barest breath of space between their mouths. He waited, completely still and barely breathing, his pulse thundering in his ears. Finally, after several moments had passed, Draco made the softest little sound - not quiet enough to be a sigh, but not loud enough to be a whimper - and rolled up onto his toes, crushing their mouths together almost-clumsily.

Harry jolted backwards as his lip was crushed between their teeth, nearly falling over. His hand dropped from Draco’s chin and he grabbed the bedpost to catch himself. Draco stumbled back from him, hands flying up to cover his mouth as his cheeks turned bright red. Harry blinked at him, then released the bed in favor of prodding his lip gingerly with a fingertip. It came away wet with blood, and Harry couldn’t help it. He started to laugh, even as his tongue soothed away the blood. At least a bloody lip healed quickly.

He stopped laughing almost as soon as he’d started when he realized just how mortified and embarrassed Draco appeared to be. “Hey...” He soothed, stepping closer to Draco and pulling him into his arms. “Don’t be like that. You were just...a little too enthusiastic is all. It’s my fault for teasing you that way.”

Draco hid his face in Harry’s chest, then muttered in a horrified little whisper. “I just...don’t have a lot...of, you know...experience. With kissing. Or anything. After Blaise, I...I just couldn’t.”

Harry nudged Draco back and tipped the blonde’s face back up. He leaned down, brushing his lips lightly over each of Draco’s burning cheeks, then said softly. “I’m not exactly super-experienced myself. I don’t think that has to be a bad thing.”

Draco smiled a little and Harry touched their mouths together; soft and sweet, with their lips just barely parted, breath passing between their mouths as Harry leaned in for a second kiss, and then a third. Draco’s hands crept up Harry’s chest, then over his shoulders to claps loosely behind Harry’s neck as he melted against the taller teen. Harry smiled a little against Draco’s lips, then let his hands settle lightly on Draco’s waist and kissed him again.

After a moment, Harry couldn’t resist temptation any more. He deepened the kiss, licking his way into Draco’s mouth. The blonde whined softly, arms tightening around Harry’s neck as he tried to press even closer. Harry traced the straight line of Draco’s teeth, then curled his tongue to lick at the ridges on his palate. When Draco’s tongue brushed against his - lightly at first, then with increasing confidence when Harry returned the intimate caress - Harry couldn’t help the low growl that rumbled up from his chest at Draco’s sweet taste.

Vanilla, and lightness, and the sharp, bitter taste of coffee; Draco tasted very much like his personality, if Harry was being honest. Not that he minded.

Draco pulled back, breathing ragged, and stared up at Harry with eyes gone stormcloud-dark from desire, still clinging to Harry’s shoulders. “I...that was...”

“Yeah, tell me about it.” Harry laughed quietly, leaning down and pressing another light kiss to Draco’s mouth, unable to resist. “So, er...we’re okay? I mean, you get that I’m not, like, awkward or whatever because of...of the Amortentia-thing?”

Draco nodded, lips curving into a slow, wicked smile. “Yeah, I get that.” His eyes sparkled as he added. “You should tell me what it smelled like to you, though. In the interest of fairness.”

Harry laughed again - nervously that time - and his cheeks turned red. He knew Draco was teasing, but the blonde had a point. “Treacle tart, broomstick wax, and vanilla like you.”

Draco stared at him for a moment, then smiled slightly. “Oh. Well...that’s good to know.” He snuggled against Harry’s chest for a moment, then asked softly. “Could I...I mean, would you want me to...to sleep in here? I know you assigned me my own room, but I thought...I mean, I liked falling asleep with you on your birthday, and...”

“Yes.” Harry cut off Draco’s babbling. When Draco was nervous, he could ramble for ten minutes at a stretch without seeming to pause - not even for air - and Harry knew it was best to just head him off as soon as you understood the question he was trying to ask. “I sleep better with someone snuggled up to me.”

Draco grinned for a moment before speaking again. “So...should I go get ready for bed? Or did you have something else in mind?”

Harry laughed as Draco wiggled his eyebrows, then rolled his eyes. “Go on, then. We’ve got some stuff to talk about before we go to sleep, but we might as well be comfortable for it.”

Draco looked wary in the blink of an eye. “You mean the Tuesday thing that Sev mentioned?” Harry nodded and Draco sighed. “Right. Guess I’ll go get ready for bed.”

Harry watched him go, praying he wasn’t about to make _another_ huge mistake.


	13. Chapter Twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, all! It's Sly again. So...RL has been kicking my ass. By that I mean, I left an abusive spouse with my autistic six year old in tow. I am now halfway across the country from where I've lived the last nine years, and am starting over. With nothing, really. So. Things are a _little_ rough right now.
> 
> But I wanted to assure you all that I am still working on THP, and that I still love you all, and that I haven't abandoned anything. So. Here is the next chapter!
> 
> Comments would make my life just the tiniest bit less-miserable right now, so please, leave me some love! <3
> 
> ~ Sly
> 
> P.S. - Give it up for my pre-reader, Jen, who posted the previous chapter right before all of this nonsense went down in my life, and who FB-messaged me the last chapter and then-some that I had written of THP so I could keep writing until I got settled and had a new computer. ALL THE LOVE!!!

Draco snuggled up against Harry’s side, resting his head on Harry’s chest, listening to his heartbeat through the thin cotton of his tee-shirt. Harry had one arm around Draco’s waist, and the blonde had one leg draped across Harry’s thighs. The slippery feel of Draco’s silk pajamas was strange, and it tempted Harry to slip his hand beneath the fabric to find skin, but he resisted. For the moment, there were larger concerns. Like what to do about Christmas Eve; Tuesday.

“I’m supposed to go see my godfather on Tuesday.” Harry said at last, since he wasn’t really sure where else to start. “It’s going to be a big Christmas Eve party.”

“And I’m not invited.” Draco said, shrugging as best he could considering his position. “It’s not a big deal, Epi. I can just stay here.”

“It’s not that you’re not _invited,_ exactly.” Harry sighed, trying to find the words he needed. “Look, you know where my allegiances are, right? I mean, I know we don’t talk about it much, but you _do_ know.”

Draco nodded against Harry’s shoulder. “Yes, I do.” His voice was whisper-soft. “I don’t see what that has to do with anything, though.”

Harry struggled once again to find the words he needed; this was harder than he’d thought it would be. “I can’t bring you _there_ \- to where the party is - unless you’re on our side. It’s not...I need someone to let you through the Fidelius Charm, and it’s...it’s a big deal. You can’t just... _go._ So I want to bring you; I really do. I just need you to...”

Draco had gone very still, and very tense, against Harry’s side. “To what?” Draco’s voice was sharp. “To turn my back on everything I’ve ever known? To side with _the Light_ over my parents? Over my heritage? I can’t believe you’d even ask me to do that!”

“But you care about me, right?” Harry shifted positions so he was laying on his side, facing Draco, and looked pleadingly at the blonde. “You had to know this would come up eventually. So why does it matter if it’s now, or in a week, or in six months? I’m Light. I don’t...I don’t need you to be Light, Draco, but I _do_ need you to swear you won’t go Dark. I don’t think that’s asking too much.”

“Do I care about you.” Draco said it as a statement, rather than a question; his voice was flat. “As if that’s all that goes into this; as if that’s all that matters.” He looked away, sitting up and pulling his legs to his chest, wrapping his arms around them and resting his chin on his knees. “Epi, it’s not that simple.

“I wish that it was, but it’s _not.”_ He flicked his eyes to Harry, who had sat up as well, then sighed and looked away again. “I barely even know you.”

Harry bristled at that. “That’s not true! Not at all. You’ve known me for _months_ now.” He touched Draco’s shoulder lightly, then let his hand drop when Draco tensed, frustration written across his face. “Draco, I’m not trying to....to push you. If you can’t give me your promise right now, fine. You just...can’t come on Tuesday. That’s okay. But this isn’t going to go away; not for good. I’ll eventually need an answer.”

“Of course it won’t go away; this _never_ goes away.” Draco laughed bitterly. “It’s my curse; I swear. I keep falling for gorgeous Light wizards. How utterly stupid of me.” He sighed and added. “And you know me far better than I know you, Epi. You never talk about yourself.”

And that was true, because Harry hated lying to Draco. Especially once Draco had started opening up to him while learning to ride the motorcycle over the summer; telling him all sorts of things that Harry was pretty sure nobody else knew. It made it hard to say anything that wasn’t true, so Harry had just stopped saying anything. Clearly that was going to have to change.

Taking a deep breath, Harry began to talk. “I have a lot of reasons for not talking about my past, Draco, but the biggest one is that...well, I don’t want to lie to you. And there’s so many things that I’m just not allowed to say, which doesn’t leave room for much that isn’t lies. I know that’s not fair. I’m sorry that it’s not fair. I can’t change it, though. But here’s some things I _can_ tell you.”

Draco looked over at him, eyes curious, and Harry searched for the facts he was allowed to give. “I was horribly lonely growing up. I didn’t have friends, or anyone who liked me. I didn’t get hugs, or presents, or really much of anything. When I started learning magic at eleven...it was the most amazing thing. I finally felt like I belonged somewhere. But I was still trapped, in a lot of ways.

“Coming to live with Dad...this is the first time in my life that I’ve ever been free.” Harry dropped his eyes, hands nervously picking at the bed covers. “For the first time ever, I can just be myself. I can say what I’m thinking, and do what _I_ think is right, and make friends with whomever I want. I never thought it was something I could have. It’s...wonderful. And a little bit terrifying, to be honest. Half of the time I’m not sure if this is better, or worse, than what I had before.”

For a long moment, neither of them said anything. Then Harry added. “I also really love flying. It’s my favorite thing about magic. I love flying, and quidditch, and Hogwarts. I love that I have friends.” He reached out again, this time touching one of Draco’s hands.

The blonde tangled their fingers together with a sigh. “If you’re so free, then why can’t you tell me more about your past? Why do you think you have to lie?”

“It’s a security thing.” Harry admitted, squeezing Draco’s hand slightly. “No one from my old life knows where I am, and I need to keep it that way. For everyone’s sake. Partly because of who Dad is, and partly because of who Mom was, and the rest because of me. But it’s just...better this way. Safer.”

“Those aren’t the same.” Draco gave Harry a pointed look. “Better and safer, I mean. Just because it’s safer, doesn’t make it better.” Harry rolled his eyes and Draco shrugged. “I’m just pointing that out. If...if I choose to stay neutral, can you tell me more?”

Harry shook his head, eyes sad. “No.”

Draco nodded, dropping Harry’s gaze and looking at their clasped hands. “And if I...choose Light? Will you be able to tell me then?”

“No.” Harry gave Draco a helpless expression when the blonde made an aggrieved noise. “I’m sorry about that, Draco. I am. But your...affiliations...aren’t why I can’t tell you. Light or not, there’s only so much you’re allowed to know.”

Draco nodded again, shifting a little uncomfortably. “Epi, I...” He looked up, anguish in his eyes. “I don’t think you understand what you’re asking me for.”

Harry wanted to say that he did; he wanted to tell Draco _everything,_ right then and there, and assure the blonde that he knew exactly what he was asking. That he, of all people, knew how terrifying it must be to Draco, to be asked to stand against the Dark Lord. But he couldn’t. Harry _just couldn’t._ And he knew that Draco didn’t understand that; couldn’t possibly understand why Harry was asking this of him, so soon. But Harry had to know. He couldn’t put this off.

“I understand better than you think.” Harry finally gave voice to as much as he could, though he knew it probably fell short anyway. “And I know it doesn’t seem that way, but it’s true. There’s so much you don’t know, Draco. So much I can’t tell you.” Harry lifted the hand holding Draco’s, studying the way their pale fingers looked twined together. “We’re not that far apart on this, you know. You’re already neutral. I’m just asking you to stay that way.”

“No, you’re not. Not really.” Draco’s eyes were locked on their hands as well and his fingers twitched, almost as though he were fighting the urge to pull away. “If this was about neutrality, Severus wouldn’t have gotten involved with it.”

Harry stiffened, every muscle in his body going tense. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. This is about _my_ allegiances, Draco. It’s about me siding with my godfather; with the side my mother was on. Dad’s loyalties don’t come into play.”

Draco scoffed, yanking his hand free in his anger. “If there’s something you can’t tell me, then fine. Don’t. I won’t pry or try to force you. But don’t lie to me, Epitome. _Don’t._ If Severus wasn’t involved - if this was simply a matter of me remaining neutral, merely poised between you and my parents - then I could simply stay here at the house with Severus while you go to your _thing_ on Tuesday. But that’s clearly not an option, now is it?

“It’s not an option, because wherever you’re going - wherever this Light party is being held - is someplace only Light witches and wizards are allowed. And Severus is going as well.” Draco watched as Harry looked away, and that was all of the answer he needed. “If Severus is Light, then me being neutral won’t be enough, will it? He won’t trust me to be close to you. He’ll keep watching me, waiting for the moment when I give in to my family’s expectations. So either I choose Light and walk away from them, or I lose the both of you at some point along the way. Right?”

Harry nodded, unable to meet Draco’s eyes; he stared at his hands instead. “I don’t want to force you to choose.” Harry’s voice was low and tight; barely-leashed emotion crackled like electricity just beneath the polished calm of his words. “I don’t. Please don’t think that I want to; that I’m enjoying this. But this is war, Draco. And if I’m going to trust you at my back, then I need to know that we’re on the same side. I can live with neutral for now, but you’re right that Dad won’t like it. He’ll keep waiting for the moment someone presses a knife into your hand and orders you to use it. And I don’t want to wait until you’re backed into a corner to have this talk.”

For a long time, neither of them spoke. Harry wanted to give Draco time to think; time to sort things out in his head. This wasn’t going to be easy, no matter what Draco said, and he knew that. There was no reason to rush this any more than it already was. He would wait all night if he had to.

“If I said no...if I refuse to even promise to remain neutral...then this is over, right?” Draco’s words startled Harry into looking over at him; his face was as impassive as his voice. “You’ll walk away from me, like none of this happened, if I tell you there’s an honest chance I might go Dark.”

For another stretch of time, there was no sound in the room that wasn’t breath or heartbeats. Harry knew what he was supposed to say now, but faced with Draco - with those fathomless grey eyes he couldn’t get out of his head, and the memory of Draco’s mouth against his - he couldn’t do it. The words just wouldn’t come, no matter how many times he told himself they were the ones he needed to say.

At last, he shook his head. “No.” He admitted, a little surprised at himself but not willing to deny the truth that was staring him in the face. “Maybe it should be that way, but no. I don’t...I don’t know what I’ll do if you turn, Draco. I don’t...know how I’d handle that; seeing that mark on your skin. But I...I don’t think I can just walk away from you.”

Draco was staring at Harry now, eyes wide and mouth opened around startled, ragged breaths. “I...Epi, if I go Dark, Sev will _never_ let you be with me. You...you understand that, don’t you? You’re _Light._ I thought it was all-or-nothing with you lot.”

“Maybe it’s supposed to be.” Harry shrugged, then his lips curved up into a wicked little smile. “To be perfectly honest, Draco, I’m majorly sick of doing what everyone else expects me to. So...so I don’t _care,_ okay? I don’t care if they’re angry about it, or if they think I’m being stupid or selfish or whatever. No one seems to want to give you a choice, and I won’t be one of them. I won’t...

“I won’t hold my affection over your head, like a carrot on a stick.” Harry continued, the words pouring out in a breathless sort of tumble; rushed and blurred around the edges, but no less important - no less _true_ \- for the way they were pouring out. “Whatever you decide, it should be _your_ choice, Draco. It shouldn’t be because you’re scared, or angry, or even because you love someone. It shouldn’t be about what you might lose - or gain - because of that choice. It should be about what you think is right; what you believe is the thing you should be doing. Not your parents, or your friends, or Dad, or _me._ Just you. So I’m not going to make you choose, or make threats about your choices. Just...know that if I walk away, it won’t be because of some ink on your arm. I don’t think I _could_ walk away just for that.”

Draco was breathing so hard he sounded like he was panting; he was trembling all over and his eyes were dark and desperate. Harry wasn’t sure if he’d said the right thing or not - he wasn’t sure what to make of Draco’s reaction to his words - but he’d been honest. Surely that had to count for something.

Harry sucked in a sharp, startled breath - and he most certainly did _not_ scream, not even a little, thank you very much - when Draco lunged forward. Harry found himself flat on his back, with Draco straddling his stomach and pressing desperate little kisses all over his face. It took Harry a moment to realize that in between kisses - sprinkled over his forehead, his cheeks, the bridge of his nose - Draco was murmuring two words, over and over again. _Thank you._ Harry couldn’t help smiling; apparently he’d said the right thing after all.

Draco’s lips found his for a moment, then - before Harry could properly return the kiss - he moved on, his mouth following the line of Harry’s jaw. Draco scraped his teeth lightly over the skin just below Harry’s ear, then flicked his tongue against the lobe. Harry shuddered and Draco chuckled softly before nipping the curve of Harry’s ear. Draco turned his head a little and nuzzled Harry’s hair, then pressed a soft kiss to Harry’s temple.

He moved his mouth so it was right next to Harry’s ear, his breath moving over it in hot little bursts that had Harry shivering beneath him, and whispered a single word. “Yes.”

Harry blinked, confused. He nudged Draco’s shoulders lightly, making the blonde straighten up so he was seated on Harry’s stomach, staring down at him. “What do you mean, yes?”

Draco took a deep, shuddering breath, eyes nervously flitting between Harry’s eyes and his own hands, which were twisting nervously together in front of him, but when he spoke his words were firm and he seemed sure of himself; of his choice. “Yes, I will side with you.” He looked up at Harry again, teeth briefly sinking into his lower lip before he added. “You’re the only person who’s ever given me a choice. A _real_ choice, I mean. And I...I think that means you’re the one I’m supposed to choose.”

Harry reached up and dragged Draco down for another kiss.

Maybe, once, he had planned to get Draco to side with him so that the other Slytherins would turn as well, but in that moment the only thing on Harry’s mind was Draco. The silky feel of his skin when Harry slid a hand under the back of his pajama top, pressing his palm to the small of Draco’s back. The sweet vanilla and sharp coffee taste of Draco’s mouth. The soft, delicious sounds Draco made in the back of his throat when Harry rolled them over and used his body to press Draco into the mattress.

Later, the perfect way Draco sobbed his name as they both came undone - both still fully dressed in their sleepwear - sent a funny little pang through Harry, because it was strange to hear his name on Draco’s lips in such a way and have it not be the name he still used for himself in his head; Epitome, not Harry. It had never bothered Harry when Blaise whispered his new name against his skin, heated and dark, but something about the way Draco said it made him wish he could tell the blonde the truth.

Harry pulled Draco snugly into his arms, savoring the sleepy weight of the other teen and the way Draco murmured nonsense just before falling fully asleep, and told his mind to shut up. This was fine; better than fine, really. It was damned-near perfect. The closest Harry figured he’d ever been, really. He had Draco in his arms, a promise of loyalty and allegiance, and something he was beginning to suspect could very-easily become love growing between them. Anything else was silly daydreams. 

His past was firmly in the past, and Harry fully intended to leave it there. He had Draco as Epitome, and it was more than enough.

Harry figured if he believed it strongly enough, it would eventually be true. Even if it wasn’t just yet.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

While Albus spoke to Draco in the parlor on Monday afternoon – alone, because Albus felt this was a private sort of conversation and, really, Harry agreed – Severus and Harry sat in the library. They hadn’t said much since Albus arrived and took Draco to the other room to talk. Harry was thinking about the next day, and introducing Draco to Sirius, and maybe talking to Siri and Remus about having Draco join their lessons, and what the Weasleys would say, and how the other Slytherins would react and…and about a million other things. Which explained _his_ silence.

Severus was thinking as well.

After several long minutes, he drew his son’s wandering attention. “Epitome.” Harry looked over at him, attention still halfway somewhere else. “When are you going to tell him?”

Harry frowned, giving his attention more fully to his father though he still didn’t understand. “When am I going to tell who what?”

“When are you going to tell Draco.” Severus said, sounding exasperated. Seeing the confusion in Harry’s eyes, he explained further. “About you, I mean. About who you really are.”

Harry blinked, several times in rapid succession. When he finally answered, his words were slow and oddly spaced; he sounded a bit like he was speaking to a dim-witted child. “Dad… _why_ would you think I would tell him? We both know that I can’t. I couldn’t even tell Ron and Hermione.”

“That was different.” Severus couldn’t believe Harry didn’t see that; didn’t understand the difference between the two things. “It is one thing to keep this from your friends; it’s for their own safety as well as yours. For Draco to switch sides, however – for him to turn his back on his family – is a sign of how serious his feelings for you are. If you are going to be in a long-term, intimate relationship with him, then he _needs_ to know.”

“No, he doesn’t.” Harry countered, standing up to pace agitatedly around the room; he was suddenly full of restless energy. “It’s not…it doesn’t _matter,_ okay? He cares about _me._ Not my name, or my past.” Harry shot Severus a desperate look, pleading with his eyes for his father to understand. “Look, I’ve told him there’s things he can’t know; things I can’t tell him. And he’s okay with that. Really. So it’s _fine.”_

Severus sighed, because Harry was too stubborn by half. He knew precisely where that streak of obstinacy came from and – as endearing as it could be – at the moment he was silently cursing Lily for passing that on to their son. “What do you think will happen when it all comes out, then?” Severus was trying to be logical and reasonable about this, but he had a feeling it wouldn’t work.

“How will Draco feel when he realizes just how much you’ve kept from him? He doesn’t even know your name.” He leaned forwards, grabbing Harry’s wrist as he walked past and gently tugging his son to a stop in front of him. “If the two of you are intimate while you’re still lying to him, you have to know that he might never forgive you.”

“It’s not _lying.”_ Harry snapped, angrily shaking off Severus’ touch. “This is who I am; who I’ve _always_ been, even if no one knew. The rest of it was the lie, not this. My name is Epitome Kearn Snape. You’re my father. This is my home. I’m a Slytherin. I love to fly. I sketch. I’m going to be a wandmaker. All of the things that make up _me_ are real, and that’s what counts. He’ll understand.”

Severus gave Harry a very strange look; an odd mix of sympathy and disappointment. “Call it whatever you like, then, but a lie told by omission is no less of a lie. Harry…”

_~“Don’t call me that!”~_ Harry hissed the words in his fury; they slid off his tongue with a sibilance that made Severus recoil.

“I have no idea what you just said to me, but if it was even half as vicious as it sounded I expect an apology.” Severus spoke stiffly. He struggled to control the fear that instinctively spiked up at the cold sound of Parseltongue as he added. “And if you don’t want everyone figuring out who you are, I advise you to keep that skill under control.”

Harry groaned, because he’d never had the best control over his Parselmouth ability. Frustrated, he scrubbed his hands over his face before sinking down to sit on the low wooden coffee table, in front of the sofa his father was on. “I said, don’t call me that.” He muttered darkly under his breath, eyes closed as he pressed two fingers to each of his temples, trying to stave off a sudden headache. “I just…don’t want anyone to hear it, okay? I…I’m not _him_ anymore. I don’t ever want to be _him_ again. So just…please, Dad; for my sake. Don’t.”

Severus’ heart twisted in his chest at the miserable look on Harry’s face, but he wouldn’t – in truth, he _couldn’t_ – condone this. “I won’t call you that if it upsets you that much, but Epi, you have to tell Draco the truth. About everything. Before he figures it out on his own.” He sighed and added. “He’s not stupid, you know. He _will_ figure it out, sooner or later. As, I would imagine, will Miss Granger.”

“Not if I’m careful.” Harry said, chin coming up with stubborn determination. “And I will be. I have been so far, haven’t I? They don’t need to know. It doesn’t matter; not really. Once I graduate, and Voldemort is dealt with, it’ll all be in the past for good. We won’t ever have to think about it after that.”

“You cannot possibly believe that.” Severus gave Harry a stunned look when he realized that Harry at the very least _wanted_ to believe that. “It’s going to matter, Epi. Maybe not to Miss Granger, or your other little friends, but to Draco? It _will_ matter. Undoubtedly. The history between the two of you must be considered. You have weighed those moments against the Draco you have come to know; the Draco you have come to care about. He has not been given the time or the opportunity to do the same. So it will matter, and he will hate you for all of the omissions; for every moment he will view as a lie.”

Harry’s stomach twisted on itself, because he knew Severus was right. At some point, Draco was going to figure it out, or else Harry was going to run out of time and _everyone_ would know. And when that time came – when that moment of truth arrived and Draco realized that the boy he was falling in love with was really Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Wouldn’t-Fucking-Die – Harry was terribly afraid that Draco would decide he wasn’t worth the bother. That everything they shared up until that moment – whenever it finally happened – would pale against Draco Malfoy’s blind hatred of Harry Potter. And he wouldn’t care that Harry was the same person; that he _was_ Epitome, regardless of what his name had been before, and he hadn’t been lying about…about anything, really, except what he had to lie about. Names and places and things that didn’t matter; nothing _real_.

The fear made him feel sick; he wanted to curl into a ball and cry. His whole face crumpled and Severus felt himself soften in the face of Harry’s misery. He sighed and tugged his son onto his lap, petting his hair soothingly. “The sooner you tell him, the easier it will be for him to get past it.”

“Maybe.” Harry admitted, though he wasn’t really sure of that at all.

He actually thought that if he could just get Draco to love him then maybe it wouldn’t matter when it all came out, because Draco couldn’t just _stop_ loving him, right? Harry was silent for a while, just soaking up the comforting presence of someone who loved him, even if they didn’t always agree on things and even if they had practically hated each other once. Severus had gotten past _their _history, and all because he loved him. So it would work with Draco. Once the blonde loved him, Harry would tell him the truth. They would talk about it, and Harry would explain, and then everything would be fine because it wouldn’t have to change anything.__

__Provided, of course, Draco didn’t find out in the meantime._ _

__“You won’t tell him, right?” Harry asked abruptly, sitting up straight and giving Severus a panicked, pleading look. “Swear that you won’t tell him. I…I will. Eventually. When I’m ready, I promise. So you have to swear that you won’t, because he should hear it from me.”_ _

__Severus studied Harry’s earnest, desperate face and – finally – nodded. “If you promise that you will tell him yourself, then I won’t.”_ _

__“I’ll tell him.” Harry agreed readily, adding to himself that it wasn’t a lie because he _would_ tell Draco the truth. Just…not yet._ _

__~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~_ _

__Harry stepped out of the fireplace a little after eight on Tuesday morning and was immediately enveloped in a bone-crushing hug. The smell of leather and whiskey and wet dog wrapped around him and Harry chuckled even as he hugged back. “Hey, Siri.” Harry breathed, thrilled as always to see his godfather even though it had only been a few days since their last lesson. “Got a surprise.”_ _

__“Oh yeah, pup?” Sirius released Harry and let him step back so Remus could move in and hug him as well, though less-forcefully. “What’s that?”_ _

__Harry savored the scent of chocolate and wool and old, musty books as he burrowed into Remus’ embrace; he hated how tired Remus looked, but with the full moon that night there was nothing to be done about it. “Yeah, a surprise.” Harry repeated as Remus released him._ _

__The Floo roared behind him and Severus stepped out, looking around the room tensely. Only Remus and Sirius were present, which Harry was grateful for. Accordingly, Severus relaxed when he realized that as well. “Have you explained yet?”_ _

__“No.” Harry bit his lip nervously, then turned to face his godfathers. “Look, I know you’re not going to be happy but Albus talked to him yesterday, okay? And he’s my boyfriend, and he’s important to me, and I really want you two to like him. So just…give him a chance. Please.”_ _

__Before Sirius or Remus could speak – or question – the Floo roared green again and Draco stepped out of it, looking stiff and uncomfortable as he brushed soot from his clothes. Seeing the shocked looks on Remus and Sirius’ faces, he shifted closer to Harry and Severus, eyes wary. Harry reached out and grabbed Draco’s hand, threading their fingers together and pulling the petite blonde snugly up against his side. He raised his chin in stubborn defiance, silently daring either of the men in front of them to say something rude._ _

__The room fairly crackled with tension, but finally Remus spoke. “Well, you certainly know how to liven up the holidays, Epi.”_ _

__Harry snorted, relaxing in an instant. “Yeah, well. Practice.” He gave Sirius a hopeful look and said, a little bit of snark creeping into his tone. “You could greet your cousin, Sirius.”_ _

__“I could.” Sirius agreed, crossing his arms over his chest and narrowing eyes the same shade of grey as Draco’s; in truth, it was easy to see the family resemblance when Sirius was pulling a brat face. “But then, he’s not greeting me, either.”_ _

__Draco shifted forward a little, stepping out of Harry’s embrace and giving Sirius a haughty look. “It’s not actually _my_ place to greet you, since you’re older and we’ve not been formally introduced. But if we’re dispensing with the basic courtesies that I _know_ you were raised with, fine. I’m Draco.”_ _

__He held out his hand and Sirius couldn’t help laughing as he shook it. “Sirius.” He returned, inclining his head. “And trust Cissy to have bred those sorts of formalities into you. We always hated that crap when we were kids.” A funny look crossed Sirius’ face as he released Draco’s hand and added. “Except for Reggie, of course. You remind me of him.”_ _

__“You mean your brother, Regulus.” Draco said and Sirius nodded. Draco considered that for a moment, then shrugged. “I can live with that comparison. Better than reminding you of Aunt Bella.”_ _

__Sirius laughed again and, just like that, the worst of the tension in the room was gone. Sirius and Draco had not only acknowledged each other and their family bond, but laughed and teased. It wasn’t anything huge – and it was still a little uncomfortable, which was only going to get worse when everyone else arrived – but it was a step in the right direction. Harry was so grateful he could have kissed Sirius. But then, Siri didn’t exactly have a lot of family left. And of those still alive, most of them were on the other side of things. Harry figured being given the opportunity to know Draco was a gift Sirius had never expected. After all, his unthinking nickname for Narcissa Malfoy said that there had been some sort of affection between the cousins, once. Harry was happy to be able to give them this chance._ _

__“So, er…” Harry shuffled his feet a little, then asked. “Who else is here?”_ _

__Remus smiled. “Molly is in the kitchen with Andromeda. Ron, Ginny, and Hermione are still upstairs, though I imagine they’ll be down for breakfast shortly. Arthur and Ted are in one of the parlors. Tonks is…somewhere around. I think that’s everyone who has arrived so far, though we expect the twins at any moment, Charlie should be arriving in a couple of hours, and Bill and Fleur should be back from France in time for lunch.” Remus thought for a moment, then said. “I believe everyone else is arriving after lunch.”_ _

__“Right. Kitchen first, then.” Harry grabbed Draco’s hand again, giving it a quick squeeze. “Come on, then, Draco. Time to meet your aunt and Ron’s mum.”_ _

__Draco nodded jerkily, looking pale and shaky but determined. “R-right. My aunt.” He gave Harry a nervous look. “My cousin is here as well, then? The Metamorphmagus?”_ _

__Harry nodded and pulled Draco out of the room. He would have stayed and talked to Remus and Sirius more, but he knew his father had to give Remus his dose of Wolfsbane and Remus didn’t like taking it in front of other people. So courtesy dictated that Harry get Draco out of the room. Meeting Andromeda and the others was a handy excuse, anyway. Harry was also hoping it would be less-stressful for Draco to meet everyone a little at a time, rather than all at once. He led Draco through the house, down the stairs to the kitchen, making a mental note to introduce Draco to Walburga at some point; just for the hell of it._ _

__The sounds of cooking and female laughter warmed Harry’s heart, and the room smelled _heavenly_. Like eggs and bacon and sausage – not surprising, considering the early hour – but also like cookies and pie and turkey and ham and a dozen other things that were being made-ready for later. Harry tugged the blonde into the kitchen, breathing in deeply through his nose and letting out a pleased little hum. Molly turned with a smile that froze on her lips when she spotted Draco, hovering uncertainly beside Harry, clinging to his hand._ _

__Harry gently untangled their fingers, then moved to kiss Molly’s cheek; she returned the gesture, but her eyes were still locked on Draco, who was nervously standing in the doorway. “It’s lovely to see you again, Mrs. Weasley.” Harry told her, then he turned to Andromeda and smiled. “Mrs. Tonks; you as well.”_ _

__He held out his hand to Draco, who hesitantly crossed the kitchen to his side, and added. “This is your nephew; Lucius and Narcissa’s son, Draco. He’s also my boyfriend.”_ _

__Andromeda stood and Draco took an instinctive step back from the woman who looked so much like his Aunt Bellatrix. Andromeda paused, then studied him sadly. “I see you’ve met Bella. People who have typically have that reaction to me.”_ _

__“I apologize.” Draco said, stepping forward again and holding out his hand. “Your resemblance unnerved me for a moment. It’s a pleasure to meet you, of course.”_ _

__Andromeda smiled a little bit, ignoring Draco’s offered hand in favor of hugging him. “You’re so polite, Draco; so formal.” She released him, then added. “You remind me of my cousin, actually, though his hair was much darker than yours. Rather like my own.”_ _

__“Regulus.” Draco murmured and Andromeda nodded, looking a little surprised. “Sirius said the same thing when I met him a few minutes ago.”_ _

__Andromeda nodded again, and Molly cleared her throat. “Well, Draco. It’s nice to meet you. Have you boys eaten? There’s plenty of breakfast if you’re hungry.”_ _

__“Dad knew we’d be eating a ton here, so he neglected to feed us this morning.” Harry told her with a laugh, eyes sparkling. “But I was hoping to introduce Draco to Tonks before we ate. I don’t suppose either of you knows where she is?”_ _

__Andromeda smiled and rolled her eyes. “The gardens, perhaps? Or else the back drawing room; the one you kids call the War Room.” Harry nodded and began to lead Draco out of the kitchen._ _

__They stopped when Andromeda said softly. “Regulus was a dear boy, Draco, but he waited too long to make the right choice. It cost him his life because once he was Marked...well, the Dark Lord doesn’t take kindly to deserters in his ranks. I’m pleased you chose before it came to that for you.”_ _

__Draco didn’t look back at her; he didn’t even look up from his hands, which were once again twisting nervously together. But he did nod before leaving the room. Harry turned and gave Draco’s aunt a grateful smile before following the blonde. He caught up with Draco at the top of the stairs, in the cramped little hallway with its severed house elf heads. They were once more decorated with santa hats and tinsel; it was more creepy than festive and Harry wondered what Draco was thinking as he stared at them._ _

__“I don’t know what I’m doing here.” Draco’s eyes were locked on a random elf head, but his eyes were unfocused in a way that told Harry he wasn’t really seeing it. “This was stupid. I should...I should go back to Hogwarts. We can just...pretend this didn’t happen.”_ _

__“Because running scared is the better option?” Harry asked, though his voice was gentle and free of any judgment. “I get that this is big, and scary, and maybe it’s too much too fast, but...you don’t exactly get an infinite number of tries here. They’re giving you a chance; they’re willing to trust you . You get cousins, and an aunt and uncle, and friends who won’t betray you, ever. If you run...that’s it. Second chances aren’t exactly the order of the day for _either_ side.”_ _

__Draco didn’t say anything; he just kept staring into middle-distance, seeing nothing._ _

__“Draco...” Harry placed his hand on Draco’s shoulder. “You made your choice. All you have to do now is stick with it.” Harry squeezed lightly and Draco looked up at him, eyes wide and sad. “You’re not facing this alone, you know. I won’t ever make you face it alone.”_ _

__Draco nodded slowly, letting out a shaky breath and dredging up a weak smile. “Right. Well, let’s go find my cousin, shall we? The ‘War Room’ my aunt mentioned seems intriguing.”_ _

__Harry laughed and rolled his eyes. “It’s less-interesting than it sounds. Come on, then. We should check the garden first.” Harry slid his hand into Draco’s and added. “Though garden is a bit of an overstatement at this point. It’s more like...a walled in jungle of weeds, brambles, and rot.”_ _

__Draco just laughed._ _

__~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~_ _

__When Draco stepped into the War Room, he froze. One whole wall - a long one - was nothing but shelves that were filled with books and scrolls. There were tables near it, and chairs, and what looked like diagrams of locations and battle plans. Draco - ever a strategist - felt his fingers itch to touch; to plan; to refine. He resisted, but barely. His eyes moved to the rest of the room. Weapons hung on a smaller wall, and on free-standing racks. There were punching bags and weights and some strange bars on weird frames that Draco didn’t know the purpose of. There were targets, and dummies, and fencing masks. There was also an expanse of empty room that looked perfect for sparring._ _

__A young woman - with short, spiky, bubblegum-pink hair and wide, striking, purple eyes was going through what looked like a martial arts routine. Harry winked at Draco and approached the girl quietly, pulling his long hair into a low queue as he crossed the room. When he got behind her, Harry kicked out with a vicious strength that had Draco gasping out loud. But his foot didn’t connect. The girl whipped around, blocking the blow and then knocking Harry off his feet in a single smooth move. Harry instantly brought her down beside him, rolling on top to pin her._ _

__Snarling, she writhed and arched her body, breaking Harry’s hold and slamming him to the floor. When he moved to break the pin, she chided. “Stand down, Epi, or I’ll balloon up a ton or two to _keep_ you down.”_ _

__Laughing, Harry relaxed under her slender frame in surrender. “Fine, fine. You win, but only because of your evil Meta powers.” They grinned at each other for a minute, then Harry said. “I brought my boyfriend for you to meet. He’s related to you.”_ _

__Tonks rolled off of Harry and to her feet, tipping her head to the side as she studied Draco - from his perfect hair, to his button-up shirt and tie, to his skin-tight leather pants and dragon hide boots. Finally, she raised an eyebrow. “Well, don’t you look like a right stuck-up prat.” Her eyes flicked to Harry. “Won’t be much use in a fight, this one.”_ _

__Harry fought to keep his face impassive; he was used to Tonks and her methods of measuring people. Draco stiffened and sneered. “I’m more than sufficient in a duel, thank you very much.”_ _

__Tonks snorted. “First off, sufficient won’t win us a war, cousin. And second off, I didn’t say a duel. I said a _fight_ , which is entirely different.”_ _

__“I can fight. I’ll show you.” With angry jerks, Draco was tugging off his tie before Tonks could reply._ _

__She simply raised her eyebrow again in challenge and waited as Draco tossed his tie and his button-up onto a chair. He shucked his boots and socks as well, leaving him in his leather pants and a white tee-shirt. Then he walked over to the weapons racks and carefully selected a sword. Tonks didn’t hesitate; she selected one as well and settled into a fighting stance as soon as she realized what Draco was doing._ _

__Harry grabbed a chair and sat, content to watch, as Tonks snapped. “Keep in mind that there’s more to a fight than swordplay, Draco. But let’s see what you’ve got.”_ _

__Five minutes later, Tonks’ sword went sliding across the floor and Draco stood over her, one bare foot on her chest and the tip of his sword beneath her chin. Applause from the doorway drew everyone’s attention to Remus, Sirius, and Severus. Draco lowered his sword and stepped back from Tonks, letting her get to her feet. Harry was grinning widely; he couldn’t have planned this better if he’d tried._ _

__“Impressive, Draco.” Sirius had his arms folded across his chest, but he was smiling. “But could you have disarmed her if you had no weapon yourself? If you were caught unaware? If she were a he and much larger than you?”_ _

__Draco flushed and snapped. “Maybe. Why? Am I not welcome unless I pass some ridiculous set of tests or something?”_ _

__Harry spoke up to diffuse Draco’s temper before it got out of hand. “If you don’t acknowledge your weaknesses, you can’t improve on them. We train on Friday and Saturday nights. If you want to get better, you should join us.”_ _

__“Join you?” Draco blinked, then looked uncertainly at the adults. “You...you would teach me how to fight, like Epi can?”_ _

__“Epi has quite a bit on you, in terms of training.” Severus said it firmly, but not unkindly. “All of the students involved have more experience than you. But if you are willing to work hard to get up to par, then I see no reason you cannot join their lessons. If you are going to side with us, then you must be prepared for an attack just as they are.”_ _

__Tonks cleared her throat, then held out her hand to Draco. “I’m Tonks, by the way. Pleasure to meet you, cousin. You’re damned handy with a sword.”_ _

__Draco smiled back, shaking her hand. “You’re terribly impressive in weaponless combat.” He returned her compliment smoothly. “I look forward to the day I can spar with you properly.”_ _

__Suddenly Andromeda appeared in the doorway, looking amused but exasperated. “It’s bad enough I have to track down my daughter to make her eat, but do I really need to track down the rest of you as well? Molly is beginning to think her cooking is unappreciated.”_ _

__Harry and the others laughed, then followed a still-scolding Andromeda to the kitchen. Draco snuggled close to Harry’s side at the table as the thunderous sound of teenagers on the stairs awoke Walburga and set her to screeching. This house was dingy, dusty, and full of gloom, but it was also full of laughter and noise. And Draco realized, as Ron, Hermione, and Ginny came into the kitchen and greeted Harry - and expressed their pleasure at Draco choosing their side, and dating their mutual friend - that noise and laughter and light were things sorely missing from his life. He rested his head on Harry’s shoulder, munching happily on a piece of toast, and listened to the banter flying back and forth across the table._ _

__And it occurred to him that he was welcomed here because of his boyfriend, and the friendships and bonds he had forged - and helped Draco forge - with those on the side of Light. Tipping his head, Draco whispered in Harry’s ear. “Thank you. For everything.”_ _

__Harry smiled down at him, squeezed his waist lightly, and dropped a light kiss on Draco’s lips. “Thank you for choosing me.”_ _

__Draco nodded, knowing that in a lot of ways his choice had been a big deal, and understanding why Epitome was thanking him for making it. But at the same time, as he looked around the kitchen of Grimmauld Place, Draco couldn’t imagine having chosen anything else. _This_ was where he was meant to be, though he’d never dreamed it would happen. And if the beautiful boy who had helped him make this choice wasn’t precisely the one he had once hoped would be the one who saved him...well, that was irrelevant._ _

__Because Epitome Kearn Snape was more than Draco had ever imagined having - _really_ having - and he was far better than some silly, childish crush. Draco smiled at Hermione as she drew him into conversation about Arithmancy, pushing thoughts of another - vastly different - green-eyed Light wizard out of his mind. He had Epi; it was enough._ _


	14. Chapter Thirteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to take a moment to thank all of my readers for their patience/understanding as I go through the process of sorting out my life after domestic violence, and do my best to keep my son safely out of the hands of our abuser. Your continued support means the world to me and makes every day just a little bit easier.
> 
> Thank you, so much.
> 
> ~ Sly

Harry was thrilled with how readily his older friends accepted Draco into their ranks. He knew it was because of him, too; because he had somehow managed to use the past few months to show them all that Slytherin wasn’t synonymous with evil. Christmas Eve at Grimmauld Place had gone off without a hitch, including discussions about Draco joining their training and about possibly swaying the other Slytherins in their group to their side. Harry was happier than he’d ever imagined being.

Christmas day with Draco and Severus had been fun, in a more elegant manner. Christmas carols while Draco played the piano, and a walk through the snowy gardens for the two teens, and quiet conversation around a roaring fire. It was comfortable and safe, and Harry loved it every bit as much as the raucous energy of the day before.

Finally, when they all retired for the evening, Harry pulled out the last-minute special order item he’d bought for Draco. They had exchanged gifts that morning, of course, but this was different. Special. Private. It was something personal to them; something Harry didn’t want to give Draco in front of his dad. Not because he was embarrassed, but simply because he wanted to savor it with _just_ Draco; just for a few hours.

“What’s this?” Draco set down his brush and turned on the little stool set in front of Harry’s vanity, facing Harry and the extended gift.

“Something special.” Harry let Draco take the box, wrapped in silver and blue striped paper and tied with white ribbon.

Draco’s fingers immediately began to tug the ribbon free. “You already gave me my present...”

Harry smiled as he watched Draco carefully unwrap the gift, refusing to hurry for fear of damaging the gorgeous wrapping paper. “That was your friend-present. This is your boyfriend-present. It was last-minute, but I hope you like it.”

Draco froze, staring down at the little white box, with it’s fancy gold lettering. ‘ _Shimmer_.’ It was a name almost any witch or wizard would recognize, and it wasn’t a store for anyone with shallow pockets. It was a _premier_ jewelry store. One that specialized in custom, one-of-a-kind pieces. Draco knew because whenever his father had done something to royally piss off his mother, Lucius presented Narcissa with one of the store’s white-and-gold boxes, containing an expensive apology gift. A last-minute gift from ‘ _Shimmer_ ’ would have cost...

Draco wasn’t sure he wanted to know, actually. Not even a hypothetical guess in his own mind. With trembling fingers, he removed the lid. Nestled inside the white gift box was another box, not much smaller than the first. Black velvet, of course, as one would expect. Draco lifted it out, then let his fingers brush lightly over the lid.

He looked up at Harry, biting his lip. “You...didn’t have to. Get me another gift, I mean. I...I don’t...I mean, I _know_ this store, Epi and they’re...they’re _really_ expensive. I...”

“Draco.” Harry’s voice was firm, but soft and filled with affection as he cut off the blonde’s rambling. “Just open it.”

Taking a deep breath, Draco did as he was told. He lifted the lid, and stared down at the necklace that was resting on a bed of white satin inside the box. Color. That was the first thing he noticed; the colors. Deep, bottle-blue and a softer, silvered blue. Entwined; spiralling around each other. It didn’t take Draco more than a heartbeat’s time to recognize the stone they had used for practice in Intrinsic Magic. It was smaller; maybe half the size of a Snitch now, so half of its original size. Draco understood why; the original would have been bulky to wear.

The pendant Harry had had created was suspended from a thin silver chain, but Draco barely noticed that particular detail. The silver wire cage encasing the stone captured his complete attention.

The very bottom was an elegant twist, which separated into four wires. They formed the cage itself; simple lines going straight up the curve of the stone, open enough to reveal the gorgeous dance of colors trapped within. Above the stone, the four wires slowly came together, forming a teardrop-shaped cage overall. The wires twisted briefly around the pointed tip of the teardrop, then they twisted up - into the double-looped bail - before twisting back down, forming an elegant spiral that was reminiscent of a clef. Or, if you factored in the loop of the bail, a trebleclef. Either way, it was beautiful.

Simple, in it’s own way, but sophisticated. Elegant, but not overly feminine. For a music lover - and indeed, Draco could play three instruments masterfully and something like half a dozen others well enough to not be shy about it - the design was just perfect. Which Harry would have known.

Swallowing hard, he asked. “Did...did you design this, or...or just pick it out?”

Harry’s cheeks heated; he could feel the blush. “I designed it. Lindy had a couple of suggestions for my original concept art - basically opening the lines of the cage more, so the stone was easier to see - but she was impressed, since I know nothing about jewelry design.”

Draco let his fingers ghost over the elegant swoop of twisted silver, then flicked his eyes up to Harry’s. “It’s beautiful. I...I love it.”

“Oh good.” Harry let out a shaky laugh, visibly relaxing. “I was worried it was too...something. Or something, I don’t know. I was just worried.”

Draco’s lips twitched up and he admitted. “It’s too much, really. I shouldn’t accept something that I know had to have cost a small fortune.” His fingers brushed lightly over metal and stone once more, before he gave Harry a wicked smile. “But I’m terribly greedy, and selfish, and I love it. So I’m keeping it.”

When Harry laughed, Draco threw out an impromptu invitation; just because. He didn’t know why, really, except that he felt happy and bold and something about Harry made him impulsive. “My parents have a huge party every year, for New Year’s Eve. Come with me. I...I want to tell them. About us.”

Harry hesitated for only a moment. Why shouldn’t he go? He was a Prince; the son of Severus Snape. He was gorgeous, and rich, and a Slytherin. He had just as much right as any of Draco’s other Slytherin friends to be at a pureblood party. It wasn’t as though anyone there would know he was Light. He would just be the son of another Death Eater; another wealthy teen socialite.

So why not?

A stubborn light in his eyes, Harry agreed. Besides, what was the worst that could happen?

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Draco dragged a flushed, protesting Harry - who looked quite sophisticated in the tux he’d been bullied into by the demanding blonde - into the dancing-area of the Manor’s ballroom. The floor-to-ceiling mirrors lining one wall reflected back their fight a few dozen times, but Draco didn’t care. He was dancing with his boyfriend, one way or another. Harry was standing, stiff and uncomfortable, just in front of him. Huffing out a frustrated breath, Draco took charge.

“One hand on my waist, Epitome. This isn’t hard, I swear.” As hesitant fingers settled on Draco’s waist, the blonde clasped Harry’s free hand in his, drawing it up to the proper height while he settled his other hand high on Harry’s shoulder. “Good. Now just follow me; it’s a simple four-count movement.”

Harry nodded jerkily, still tense and unhappy, but Draco wasn’t backing down. The orchestra slid into a waltz and Draco used the hand on Harry’s shoulder and his own weight against Harry’s hand on his waist to guide the other boy. Light pressure from the hand clasping Harry’s had the taller teen turning when he was meant to and after a couple of minutes the tension under Draco’s hand relaxed. Draco figured Harry had accepted that this _was_ simple, and realized Draco wouldn’t let him look like an idiot.

“So...ready to try witty banter and casual flirting while dancing?” Draco lifted one brow, his lips curving up into a teasing smile. “Or are you one of those folks who can’t walk and chew gum at the same time?”

“Walking and chewing gum is simple.” Harry retorted, grinning down at the slender teenage boy who fit so beautifully in his arms; against him. “It’s the witty banter that’s typically beyond me.”

Draco laughed - the sound deep and rich and enchanting enough to draw looks from the other dancers, though neither teen noticed - and asked lightly. “And the flirting?”

Harry’s smile softened, eyes warm. “Never casual, I’m afraid. At least, not with my current dance partner.”

Draco’s pale lashes dropped down to shield his eyes for a moment, even as his pale cheeks flushed with pleased color. “Well...aren’t you the charming one.” He shot Harry a coy look and asked. “Trying to seduce me, Epi?”

“That depends on whether or not it’s working, of course.” Harry savored the sound as Draco laughed again, barely even noticing that they were still dancing; his body was moving all on it’s own, following Draco’s rather skillful lead.

The slender blonde was wearing a tux as well, looking incredibly dashing and rather like something out of a fairytale. Draco shone here, in a ballroom full of well-dressed people, and colorful gowns, and glittering jewels. He was perfectly at ease as he nibbled hors d'oeuvres and sipped champagne from fluted crystal and talked about absolutely nothing with people he could barely stand to be around. Harry was in awe of him; of the world he belonged to. He had listened, of course, as the Slytherins rolled their eyes and talked about these sorts of events, but to actually be at one...

It was something else.

Draco glided them through a spin, then murmured. “You hardly need to make much of an effort, Epi. I’ve already fallen at your feet, after all.”

“Have you?” Harry replied, voice a low, velvety purr. “You haven’t actually said as much, you know. Not in so many words, at least.”

Draco flushed and looked away, slowing their steps and then stopping only a moment later. Around them, the other dancers kept moving; they spun around Harry and Draco in a dizzying whirl. “Epi, I...”

“No, don’t.” Harry touched the tips of two fingers to Draco’s lips, silencing him. “If you aren’t ready, then please, don’t. I don’t need forced declarations.”

Draco nodded, but felt a bit queasy. It wasn’t that he didn’t care, it was just that _saying_ it – putting a label on it – made it seem so much more…real. And terrifying. And Draco just wasn’t ready yet.

But then, neither was Harry.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Draco paced nervously in front of the fireplace in his mother’s favorite drawing room. Rose and cream; the perfect backdrop for her coloring. And his, of course, but that was irrelevant. She was supposed to be meeting him; meeting _them_. Harry was sitting in the window-seat. He was visible, if someone was looking, but unobtrusive enough to allow Draco and Narcissa the illusion of privacy while they spoke. He wouldn’t step in unless he had to.

After several more agonizing minutes of waiting, the door opened. Narcissa swept in, looking elegant and incredibly beautiful in an ice-blue evening gown. No one looking at her would believe she was old enough to have a sixteen year old son. She let the door touch closed behind her; Draco didn’t seem to notice that it hadn’t swung shut far enough to latch, but Harry did. He didn’t say anything, or move to fix it, but he _did_ make a mental note to keep an eye on the door.

“Draco, darling...” Narcissa moved to Draco’s side in an instant, concern showing clearly on her face. “I don’t see why you wanted to talk tonight. Surely whatever it is could have waited until after the party.”

Draco swallowed hard, then shook his head slowly. “No, Mother. It couldn’t.”

He glanced over at Harry, and Narcissa followed his gaze. Her eyes widened and she sucked in a startled breath; she hadn’t noticed him when she’d come in. She looked back at Draco swiftly. “What, precisely, did you wish to tell me, Draco?”

The sharp tone of his mother’s voice made Draco wince, but he raised his chin despite his nerves and said in a firm voice. “I am dating Epi.”

“I see.” Narcissa spoke slowly; consideringly. Her eyes moved over Harry assessingly, then she sighed. She gave Draco a small, motherly smile. “Honestly, darling. There’s no need for theatrics. Though Epitome’s bloodline is, perhaps, a bit less-pure than your father and I might have liked he _is_ of the Prince line, and quite wealthy. He’s also very beautiful. Not to mention Severus is a dear friend. Why, he’s your godfather, for Merlin’s sake! What reason could we have to object?”

For a long moment, Draco just stared helplessly at his mother. He looked over at Harry and the brunette opened his mouth to speak, but Draco shook his head to silence him. “Mother, he...” Draco took a deep, steadying breath and said in a rush. “Epitome is Light, as his mother was. As his godfather is. He...”

“He is Severus Snape’s son.” Narcissa said, sounding dismissive. “He will do as he is told; as he must, out of respect for his father’s position. Just as you will. Silly childish notions of being Light will not be tolerated for long, so they are of no consequence.”

“He won’t.” Draco whispered, giving Narcissa a pleading expression. “Don’t you understand, Mother? He _won’t_. He’ll go to his godfather - to the Order - if Severus tries to force him.”

Narcissa looked over at Harry, who arched an eyebrow and gave her an icy stare to communicate that yes, every word her son spoke was true. When Narcissa spoke again, her voice trembled and she was visibly shaken. “Draco, what are you saying?”

“I’m saying...I’m saying that I...” Draco was shaking all over now, but he straightened his spine and forced the words out; determined now to say this before his tremulous courage failed altogether. “I won’t do it either, Mother. I will not kneel before the Dark Lord, or take the Mark. I won’t.”

“You’ve gone mad...” Narcissa whispered, taking a stunned step back from her son. “The both of you have gone completely mad. Draco, stop for a moment and _think_. Do you have any idea what you’re saying; what it would _mean?”_

Harry noticed the door shift; he caught the movement from the corner of his eye and stiffened. He opened his mouth to say something, but Narcissa started speaking again.

“You have obligations, Draco. Our whole family does.” She sank down onto a chaise, looking suddenly very small and frail. “You mustn’t be a child about this. Either of you.” She added, flicking her eyes to where Harry was still sitting. 

Draco growled, his temper rising in an instant. “I’m not being a _child_ , Mother. I’m being an adult, for the first time in my life! I am refusing to do as I’m told - to swear myself to a cause; to a _madman_ \- simply because Father chose to do so. That’s not _my_ choice. I won’t let it be my choice, just because it was his. I’m choosing Epi, instead. I’m choosing Light.”

“The hell if you are!”

The furious roar cut through the room. Harry froze in the window seat as the door slammed open, revealing a red-faced, enraged Lucius Malfoy. Draco flinched in the face of his father’s anger, and Narcissa cringed back into the chaise. “Where do you think you’ll go, hmmm? Who do you think will shelter you from the Dark Lord’s wrath if you turn your back on your family?”

Draco went from shrinking away from his father to standing straight and glaring in the blink of an eye. “I’m not turning my back on my family. I’m turning it on _your_ choices.” Raising his chin a little higher, he added sharply. “And I have other family who will take me in. An aunt and uncle, and cousins, who will stand by my choice; who made the same choice themselves.”

“Andi...” Narcissa breathed, standing in an instant, longing written across her delicate features. “You’ve spoken to my sister...”

Draco looked at her in surprise, but nodded slowly. “Yes, and her husband and daughter. Tonks is...well, she’s completely amazing, to be honest.” Draco laughed a little, smiling. “And Sirius is completely mad, but in the best way. They’re lovely.”

Narcissa looked to be on the verge of tears. “I’m pleased they’re well.” She managed in a choked voice, ignoring the furious look her husband was giving her. “It’s been so long since I saw Siri, and longer still since I saw Andi...”

“With good reason!” Lucius snapped, glaring heatedly between his wife and son. Narcissa turned away, her arms curled almost protectively around herself, looking very frail and terribly sad. “Draco, you will stop this foolishness _at once_. And the instant you return to school, you will end this relationship with Severus’ son, unless he agrees to see reason as well. I won’t have some silly little halfblood filling your head full of fluff and nonsense, is that clear?”

“No!” Draco protested, his eyes narrowing in anger. “No, I won’t. I won’t do it.” Draco was breathing heavily, Harry noticed with concern. “It’s my choice. Why can’t you seem to understand that? I’m sixteen; I’m hardly a child any longer!”

“So long as you live under my roof, you will obey my rules!” Lucius was angrier than Harry had ever seen him; his grey eyes were narrowed as much as Draco’s and he was breathing just as hard. It was a bit eerie, actually, how similar they looked.

“Then I’ll leave.” Draco snapped, hands curling into fists at his sides. “You can’t make me end things with him. I won’t let you dictate my life.”

Narcissa turned back, anxiously looking between the two. “Please, don’t fight about this...just...let it go. It’s not...it’s not worth tearing our family apart. Please...”

“Tell him that, not me!” Draco shot Lucius a cold look. “I’m not leaving Epi, and I’m not taking the Mark, and that’s final.”

“You will do as you’re told.” Lucius spat, fingers tightening on the silver head of his cane in a way that was distinctly threatening. “I’ve let your mother coddle you for far too long, but that ends now.”

“You aren’t listening to me...” Draco protested, clearly getting frustrated.

“You will _not_ be returning to your godfather’s house.” Lucius voice got louder as he spoke over Draco, ignoring his son’s protests. “And you will not be returning to Hogwarts.”

Draco sucked in a sharp breath, gasping out. “What are you talking about?”

Lucius didn’t hesitate to explain. “You will finish your schooling at Durmstrang. That ought to knock any foolish thoughts about being _Light_ out of your head! And before you leave, you’ll take the Mark. No more stalling.”

“You can’t _do_ that!” Draco cried, horrified by what his father was saying. “I won’t go. I _won’t.”_

“I’m your father, Draco. I assure you, I can do precisely as I please.” Lucius sneered. “Once you’re at Durmstrang, you’ll forget these ridiculous childish notions, and you’ll forget all about Epitome.”

“I _won’t_ forget him, I...”

“You will.” Lucius waved off Draco’s words carelessly. “This teenage infatuation will pass soon enough, and you’ll move on. Then the ideas he’s put in your head will seem as silly as they are.”

Draco’s breath hitched in his chest and he choked out. “It’s not _infatuation_. And you can’t keep us apart...”

Lucius acted as though he hadn’t heard what Draco had said, or perhaps he simply didn’t care what his son had to say...Harry wasn’t sure. “You’ll see sense soon enough, Draco. I won’t hear any more of this nonsense tonight, is that clear?”

“It’s not nonsense!” Draco was nearly sobbing with frustration at this point. “If you would just _listen_ to me, I could _explain_...”

“Enough!” Lucius roared, and Narcissa let out a distressed whimper in response to his fury. “I have had enough of your cheek, Draco, and I...”

“I love him!” Draco screamed, drowning out whatever Lucius had been intending to say; the whole room falling silent in the wake of his words.

He stood there, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides, chest heaving and face red, utterly defiant as he repeated himself. “I _love_ him. Marking me won’t change that. _Durmstrang_ won’t change that. I love him, and he’s Light, and so am I. So disown me. Cut me off. I don’t _care.”_

There was silence again; no one seemed to even be breathing anymore. Then Harry stood, causing Lucius to take a startled step back. In his rage, he had never noted Harry’s presence in the room. But Harry wasn’t looking at Lucius. He only had eyes for Draco. The teen had gone still, staring at Harry in wide-eyed fear; it was clear he’d forgotten Harry was present. He hadn’t intended for Harry to hear his confession.

When he reached Draco’s side, Harry asked in a whisper. “You love me?”

Draco’s eyes darted around nervously, but after a moment he nodded. Harry let out a slow breath, then smiled widely. “I, er...I do, too. You, I mean. I do you...love you, that is. I love you. Too. Also.”

Draco blinked, then his lips began to curve up. After a moment, he leaned forward, his forehead resting against the center of Harry’s chest as he laughed hard enough to make his whole body shake. After a moment, he lifted his head and murmured. “You’re such a spaz, Epi.”

Harry shrugged, though his cheeks were pink. “Yeah, but you still love me.” Draco hummed his agreement, though he still looked amused.

Suddenly, Narcissa cleared her throat, drawing everyone’s attention. “Lucius, in light of this... new emotional development, perhaps...well, perhaps things must be...reconsidered?”

Lucius looked like he might faint; his face had lost all color and he was leaning heavily on his cane. “I cannot support you if you are Light...” His voice was hoarse; his eyes looked haunted. “Draco, I cannot _protect_ you if you do this!”

Draco went still from his spot leaning against Harry’s chest; he was staring at Lucius with a look of dawning understanding. Harry felt himself softening towards Lucius, if only a little. For all of his failings - and they were numerous - Lucius Malfoy loved his son. He did not always show it, was perhaps more distant than was necessary, but he did love Draco. That was suddenly quite clear.

Narcissa drew everyone’s attention again, looking sad once more. “The two of you should leave. Go to Sirius, or to Epitome’s godfather, or to Hogwarts. Someplace safe.” She looked away, adding. “We cannot protect Draco any longer, but we can, perhaps, help. If we disown him, and retain the Dark Lord’s favor by showing our displeasure that our child is a blood traitor. We can, perhaps, send word...now and then...”

She stepped closer to Lucius and touched his arm, just below his elbow, drawing his attention and giving him a pleading look. “We could, couldn’t we, Lucius? Just some information, now and again...when it seems safe to do so...to help...”

Harry stared in shock as Lucius seemed to rally himself. “Yes...yes, of course. Anything to help Draco, you know that, love.” Lucius turned a determined gaze on his son. “We must disown you, until...until this is all over and settled. I cannot be seen as siding against the Dark Lord, even for my son. But I will pass along whatever information I can.”

Harry hesitated, for one long moment. Then he took a deep breath and followed his gut. “You don’t have to disown him. Just...pretend he hasn’t chosen. You’ll be in better standing if V...” Harry cut himself off before he said the name, continuing quickly. “If the Dark Lord thinks Draco will eventually be joining his ranks, which means you can pass along more information. Better information.”

“But if he is associating with you...” Narcissa murmured, frowning in confusion. “It will be obvious what side he’s chosen, won’t it?”

“Dad and I haven’t exactly told the Dark Lord I’m Light.” Harry said, rolling his eyes. “My friends at school know, of course, but it’s not public knowledge. Since I’m a Slytherin, and a Snape, no one questions me...so they won’t question Draco, either.”

Lucius was staring at Harry. “You mean Severus is aware of your...allegiances?” Harry nodded and prayed he wasn’t blowing his father’s cover. But Lucius simply sighed, his shoulders slumping in relief. “I will discuss spying with him, then. I presume he will arrange a meeting with the Headmaster...”

Harry nodded again. “I’d imagine so. You aren’t going to snitch on him, are you? I figure you two are in pretty much the same boat now, but if I’m wrong...”

“You are not wrong.” Narcissa said quietly, turning to smile gratefully at Harry. “We are relieved we will have someone to talk to, who understands. Your father is truly a dear friend. I would not want to lose him, nor would I want _you_ to do so.”

When Harry nodded, she asked aloud. “I do wonder if it could be arranged for me to see Andromeda, or Sirius...”

“Sirius is at the castle on Friday and Saturday nights.” Harry offered, before he could think better of it. “I, er, train with him. And my godfather. Among others. Draco’s going to join us. If you make your meeting with Albus for late on one of those days, you could come see him...”

Lucius nodded when Narcissa looked at him hopefully. “Very well. I shall speak with Severus in the morning, and mention your desire to see your family.”

When Narcissa beamed at him, he rolled his eyes and added. “We ought to return to the ballroom now. I imagine people are already wondering where we’ve vanished to.”

Feeling rather cheerful now that everything had gone so well, Harry answered without thought. “You can always tell everyone I was asking for your blessing with Draco.”

 

There was a pause, then Harry paled and stammered. “You’re blessing to _date_ him. Not to...I mean, it’s a bit early to be discussing... > _that_. I...not that I don’t think, maybe, someday, but not _now_ and I...”

“Oh Salazar, please just stop talking!” Draco groaned, though he was smiling slightly. Harry blushed, but fell obediently silent. “Just tell everyone Epi asked permission to begin courting me. We’re of an age where that’s an acceptable level of commitment, but young enough no one will expect an engagement just yet.” He glanced at Harry and added. “It’s mid-ground, between dating and a marriage contract. Assuming that’s acceptable to you.”

Harry hesitated for a moment, then thought about how his heart had done a little flip in his chest and his stomach had filled with flutters when Draco said he loved him. He knew he’d never felt this way about anyone before. And it wasn’t marriage; not yet. Just...a bigger commitment than a trip to Hogsmeade together, with hand-holding and Butterbeer. A bigger commitment than simply dating; than what he’d done with Blaise.

It was the thought of Blaise that pushed Harry to nod. He didn’t want Draco lumped into the same category as his relationship with Blaise, ever; this would ensure that. “Sure. I...don’t really know how that works, but you can explain it all, whenever. So okay. I guess I’m courting you.”

Lucius rolled his eyes again, but Narcissa was smiling at them. Draco just sighed in exasperation. Harry figured it had all gone a lot better than he’d expected, anyway, and decided not to take offense. It had been one hell of a night.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Harry chewed his lip nervously as Severus digested the news Harry had just finished imparting. It was a lot to take in. Lucius and Narcissa now knew that Draco was Light. They knew that _Severus_ was Light, and a spy. Lucius was willing to spy. They needed to meet with Albus. Narcissa wished to see her estranged family again. Oh, and Harry was now officially ‘courting’ Draco – a term Harry still didn’t understand the full implications of, but which he was certain his father did. The whole world was spinning off its axis, fast and wild and out-of-control. Yes, it was _a lot _to take in.__

__Finally, after a long while of silence, Severus asked quietly. “Have you told Draco the truth yet?”_ _

__Harry swallowed hard and shook his head. “Not yet. I will, though. I promise. I just…need to wait for the right time. When it’s not going to overwhelm him because of everything else going on.”_ _

__Severus narrowed his eyes at Harry. “So you are perfectly comfortable sharing the secrets of all and sundry, including myself, but not your own?”_ _

__Harry ducked his head, looking guilty. “I don’t _mean_ to keep…blurting things out. It just keeps happening is all.” Trying to allay his father’s displeasure, Harry added meekly. “The Malfoys are on our side now, though. That’s a good thing, right?”_ _

__Severus sighed and brought his hand up, pinching the bridge his nose as though trying to stave off a headache. In truth, it was far too late for that. His temples had been throbbing since Harry had reached the halfway-point of his tale. Severus should have known having Harry Potter for a son would make his life ten thousand times more complicated. The boy attracted trouble like no one else, without even trying. It was enough to drive a saint to drink…and Severus was no saint._ _

__“Do you understand what it means to be courting the Malfoy heir?” Severus asked, deciding it was best to focus on one problem at a time. The spy-issue could wait until he spoke to Albus._ _

__“Er…no.” Harry admitted, shrugging sheepishly. “Draco’s going to explain it to me, I think. But it’s sort of like dating, right?”_ _

__“It is _nothing_ like dating.” Severus corrected sharply, because Harry needed to understand the seriousness of what he’d stumbled into. “There are rules; guidelines; conditions. It is expected to culminate in either an engagement or a blood feud, depending on how it goes.”_ _

__“Oh.” Harry cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably. “So…what is it I’m supposed to do during this whole…process? You know, so it _doesn’t_ end in a…a feud?”_ _

__Severus shook his head. “Too many things for you to possibly remember. I’ll find the necessary book later and you can familiarize yourself with it when you have time.” He gave Harry a stern frown. “And for the love of Merlin, Epi, _tell him.”__ _

__Harry winced, then nodded mournfully. “Of course. Soon. I just really want to tell him at the right time, in the right way. I don’t want to lose him over it.”_ _

__Severus studied his son through narrowed eyes for a minute, then sighed and nodded. “Very well. But if you have not told him by the time school ends for the year, _I_ will tell him. Is that clear?”_ _

__Harry nodded once more, feeling a bit like a rather unenthusiastic bobblehead toy. “I’ll tell him before then. I promise.”_ _

__Severus sincerely hoped his son was telling the truth. He knew he was giving Harry far too much time; he ought to put his foot down and make his son tell Draco within a month, at the most. Severus just _really_ didn’t want to have to be the one to tell Draco who, precisely, he had fallen in love with. This whole thing was just one giant mess. He had a feeling it wouldn’t end well, though he _really_ wanted to be wrong. Sadly, he rarely was._ _

__~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~_ _

__Harry wasn’t sure how he felt about the prospect of returning to school. So much had happened over the holidays...he wished he had more time to get used to it all before going back. Instead, he and Draco would board the train in the morning and be back at school by dinner time. They would have all of Sunday to ready themselves for classes to start on Monday, but a day just didn’t feel like enough time. Harry sighed softly, closing his sketchbook and then shuffling his art supplies off the bed, onto the nightstand._ _

__He rolled onto his side, studying Draco’s elegant profile as the blonde read. After a minute, Draco spoke without looking up, his tone dry. “It is unnerving to be watched so intently, Epi. It makes it rather hard to enjoy my book.”_ _

__Harry grinned and said teasingly. “So come enjoy me, instead.”_ _

__Draco huffed out a laugh, rolling his eyes. “You are absurd sometimes; did you know?” But he slid a ribbon into the book to mark his page before setting it aside, on the other nightstand. His reading glasses were folded and placed on top of the book before he turned to face Harry._ _

__“I like your glasses.” Harry admitted, apropos of nothing. Draco snorted, but Harry quite meant it and immediately informed him of that. “No, really. They’re very subtle, and elegant. They make you look rather scholarly, actually, and a bit prim.” With a wicked smile, he added. “Makes me want to muss you up.”_ _

__“Well...that’s a different sort of reaction than they normally get.” Draco was smiling, though, and his cheeks were flushed with rosy color. He obviously liked that Harry liked his glasses. “So what did you have in mind for entertainment, then?”_ _

__Harry blushed, but said softly. “I’d really like to put my hands on your skin. Not that your pajamas aren’t lovely, because they are, what with being silk and all. But I spend an awful lot of time thinking about your skin, so...”_ _

__Draco hummed in agreement, his fingers moving to unbutton the silky green top of his sleepwear. “And is this skin-touching going to be mutual? Will there be kissing involved? Do explain the full scope of your plan, Epitome. I’m most curious.”_ _

__“Definitely mutual.” Harry enthused, immediately tugging his tee-shirt off and flinging it halfway across the room without care. Draco snorted again as he dropped his own shirt onto the floor directly beside the bed, but Harry didn’t take offense. “And kissing is a must. I think I could kiss you forever, honestly. It’s my favorite thing to do.”_ _

__Draco’s smile was decidedly seductive as he leaned in, his hands settling on Harry’s hips. “Let’s see if we can’t find something new to be your favorite thing, hmmm?”_ _

__Harry sucked in a sharp breath as Draco’s clever fingers tugged on the waist of his sleep pants, encouraging him to shed them. Which he did; swiftly and without hesitation. Draco’s own silk pajama bottoms slid down long, slender legs with the faintest whisper of sound, revealing all of him to Harry’s avid gaze. And then it was just the two of them, side-by-side on Harry’s bed, with nothing between them. Harry did his best to ignore Draco’s eyes on him - though he couldn’t stop blushing - and let his eyes take in every delicious inch of his former-rival._ _

__Draco was all alabaster skin stretched over subtle muscle; there was nothing bulky about him. He had a Seeker’s build to a ‘T’ - fine bones and sleek lines and quick-and-clever movements. Draco’s legs seemed too long for his short stature - a fact Harry had unwittingly noted a time or two before - and Harry couldn’t help wondering what it would feel like to have those long, graceful legs wrapped around his waist. Unable to resist the temptation for long, Harry reached out and ran his hand lightly over Draco’s side._ _

__Draco smiled as Harry’s palm slid from his hip, up along the curve of his waist, and then up further to curve along his ribs. “Kiss me.”_ _

__Harry was happy to comply._ _

__He leaned in, capturing Draco’s lips easily. He could feel Draco smiling against his mouth for a moment before his lips parted in invitation. Harry nudged Draco onto his back, rolling on top of him, even as his tongue mapped every bit of Draco’s sweet mouth. As he settled his weight fully along the length of Draco’s body, the blonde spread his legs and allowed Harry to nestle himself between them. Both boys groaned as their bodies lined up and blood rushed south in the wake of pressure and contact._ _

__With the kiss broken, Harry rested his forehead against Draco’s, breathing in hot, damp bursts into the close space between their mouths. Harry shifted his weight a little, intending to move his mouth to the silken skin of Draco’s throat and shoulder, but he was stopped by a sharp pain in his chest. Hissing in pain, he jerked away from Draco and glared down in annoyance at the cause._ _

__There was a pause, then Draco snickered and pointed out. “You bought it. Hell, you _designed_ it. It’s your own fault it’s pointy-ish.”_ _

__“Well, I didn’t know you’d want to wear it during sex, now did I?” Harry asked, exasperated. Bracing his weight on one hand, he used the other to snag the chain as he pouted. “Can’t you take it off?”_ _

__Draco rolled his eyes, but obligingly slipped the long silver chain over his head, gently disentangling it from Harry’s fingers. “Fine. I just really like it.” Studying it speculatively, he added. “Even if it’s not precisely my favorite color.”_ _

__Harry ignored the chain and pendant - now wound through the fingers of Draco’s left hand - in favor of lowering his mouth to kiss the spot where Draco’s neck and shoulder met. Against the pale skin, he murmured. “What’s your favorite color?”_ _

__“Green.” Draco answered, without hesitation._ _

__Harry couldn't help the laughter that bubbled up at that. Sometimes, Draco really was terribly predictable. “I should have guessed. You’re a Slytherin to your core, aren’t you, love?”_ _

__Draco laughed, then moaned softly when Harry set his teeth to Draco’s collarbone. A bit breathlessly, he answered. “Yes, but the shade I love isn’t Slytherin green. It’s the green of your eyes, right now; the dark, almost-black color they turn when you’re aroused.”_ _

__Harry’s breath caught in his throat, because the idea that Draco loved something about him that _hadn’t_ changed when his mother’s spell wore off was heady in a way nothing else ever had been. He pressed their lips together again, eagerly licking his way into Draco’s mouth. Draco hummed around Harry’s tongue, drawing his knees up around Harry’s slim hips and rocking up into him._ _

__The former-Gryffindor separated their lips with a growl, pressing down into the lithe body beneath him; savoring the whimper Draco let out as their cocks pressed together, trapped between the heated press of their bodies. Harry kissed Draco again, slick and desperate and a bit sloppy, but Harry didn’t care and Draco didn’t seem to mind much either. One of Draco’s hands found its way into Harry’s long hair, tangling in it and giving sharp little tugs to pull Harry’s mouth closer or change the angle of their kisses as the mood struck him. Harry rather liked the way Draco was so quietly demanding._ _

__“Lube...” Draco panted when he finally pulled his mouth away from Harry’s long minutes later. He dragged the hand he’d had in Harry’s hair down the back of his neck, then down to the middle of his back, nails biting in as he arched up into Harry’s steady thrusts. “Fuck, Epi...please...”_ _

__Harry grinned as his mouth moved over Draco’s neck, nipping and tasting as he went, teeth pressing into Draco’s skin with just enough force to wring a strangled cry from the smaller teen. Even as Harry slid the hand not bracing his weight between their sweat-slicked stomachs, he laughed softly in Draco’s ear and teased. “Bossy little bottom, aren’t you?”_ _

__Draco moaned when Harry’s hand was suddenly slick between them; the show of power was just as arousing as the feel of that capable hand wrapping around both of their cocks, stroking them together. He might have taken offense at the words at any other time, but he was in a generous and forgiving mood. The feel of his boyfriend’s hard prick sliding against his own had a way of making him disinclined to argue about pretty much anything._ _

__Then Harry removed his hand and went back to rolling his hips, just letting them slip and slide and press against each other, almost maddeningly. Draco whined, turning his head and chasing Harry’s mouth until their lips met again, tongues sliding together in a delicious parody of their bodies. Harry knew, after just the short amount of time they’d been dating - and despite the fact that they’d only ever done this with sleep pants firmly _on_ before - that the keening sort of whine meant Draco was close. It was a rather obvious tell, being such a loud sound, and Harry was grateful for it because he didn’t expect to last much longer himself and it was horribly embarrassing when one or the other of them came before the other one was anywhere near that point._ _

__Determined to make this completely awesome - not that it wasn’t already, because _hello_ , he had Draco-fucking-Malfoy naked beneath him - Harry shifted his right hand until it was clasping Draco’s left, their fingers tangled together, and then braced his weight against it. This effectively pinned Draco’s hand down, but the blonde didn’t even seem to noticed. His attention was focused on Harry’s other hand, which had curled around his thigh - just above his knee - and pressed, resulting in Draco being much more open than he had been moments earlier. It also effectively altered the angle of Harry’s thrusts, resulting in Draco’s cock being pressed between their bellies while Harry’s slid down, slick and hot and quite suddenly teasing Draco in a _very_ different manner. _ _

__Harry groaned and thrust again - not trying to push inside of Draco, which neither of them was ready for, but simply sliding his cock up and down the crack of Draco’s incredibly gorgeous bum in a rather enticing way. It was all very intense, and a bit overwhelming, and Draco squeezed Harry’s hand tightly, ignoring the pain lancing through his palm and fingers in response. For his part, Harry didn’t seem to notice any pain at all; his gorgeous face was twisted with pleasure, eyes tightly shut as he panted and moved against Draco._ _

__“Open your eyes...” Draco managed to gasp, punctuating the request with another squeeze of his hand and a little rotation of his hips as Harry thrust down. With a desperate little whine to his voice that he would vehemently deny later, he pleaded. “Please...want to see you...”_ _

__Unable to deny Draco anything - and once again riding the high of Draco’s adoration of something so much a part of who he was, and always had been - Harry opened his eyes and locked gazes with Draco. That was all it took, and a moment later Draco was crying out, his whole body going taut beneath Harry as he spilled, hot and wet and sticky, between their bodies. With a low groan, Harry followed Draco over the edge, his release coating the firm curve of Draco’s ass._ _

__And despite the drugging pleasure enveloping them both, neither of them missed the bright white light spilling out from between their clasped hands._ _

__For several moments, as Harry and Draco caught their breaths, they both stared at their hands in shock. It was Harry who finally untangled their fingers, moving to the side as he did so, curious and a little concerned as to what could have caused the light. Draco pushed up to sitting once Harry was off of him, facing Harry who was kneeling near his left hip, then raised his left hand up between their faces. Dangling in the center of his palm - the slender chain still wound around and through Draco’s fingers - was the pendant._ _

__And there, gleaming within the silver wire cage, was the round stone. No longer blue, it was instead a green so dark it was nearly black; Draco’s favorite color; the precise color of Harry’s eyes when he was aroused._ _

__“Did...did _we_ do that?” Draco gasped, eyes flicking between Harry’s equally-stunned face and the newly-changed necklace. “Together, I mean...?”_ _

__Harry reached out, touching the pendant lightly with two fingers before saying softly. “I think we did. And without heat or burn, like last time. I just don’t know _how.”__ _

__“I think it was....you know, because we were...” Draco’s face was bright red as he nodded between their still-naked bodies. “We were in synch, so our magic...followed suit? Maybe? I don’t really know. This isn’t my area of expertise...”_ _

__Harry let his hand drop, away from the necklace, and met Draco’s eyes. With a sly grin curving his lips, Harry purred. “We’re going to get an ‘O’ on our final project, love. You realize that, right?”_ _

__For a moment Draco just blinked, then he threw back his head and laughed, the sound deep and rich as it filled the air and seemed to wrap around Harry like a caress. When he finally gained control of himself, Draco shot Harry a coy look and teased. “Only if we practice, quite often. That won’t be a problem for you, will it?”_ _

__It was Harry’s turn to laugh then, as he pulled a snickering Draco into his arms for a bit of a cuddle. As Draco settled against him, and Harry pressed a grinning kiss to his pale shoulder, Harry said. “With you? No, it won’t be any trouble at all.”_ _

__Draco’s happy sigh and murmured declaration - _‘Love you, Epi.’_ \- made Harry’s stomach twist with guilt, but he shoved the emotion down. He would tell Draco the truth soon enough. Just..._ _

__...not yet._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone enjoyed the slightly-more-than 7.5K words in this chapter. <3 Thank you all SO much for reading, and for your support and love. You guys are awesome.
> 
> ~ Sly

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Finding Love and Hope](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1810960) by [Mickae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mickae/pseuds/Mickae)




End file.
